


Holding Breath

by DoreyG



Series: Beating Heart [2]
Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Arguing, Canon-Typical Violence, Comic Book Science, Comics Elements, Crushes, Developing Friendships, Developing Relationship, Doppelganger, Earth-2, Exhibitionism, F/M, First Time, Friendship, Getting Together, Grief/Mourning, Hey Look It's a Shark, Hospitals, Implied Relationships, Imprisonment, Injury Recovery, Jealousy, Kidnapping, Love Bites, M/M, Male-Female Friendship, Morning After, Morning Sex, Needles, Past Character Death, Past Relationship(s), Past Violence, Pining, References to Graverobbing, Robbery, Rogues Rogues Everywhere, Serious Injuries, Superpowers, Table Sex, Teamwork, Trust Issues, references to murder
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-10
Updated: 2016-07-13
Packaged: 2018-05-19 13:00:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 19
Words: 76,038
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5968183
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DoreyG/pseuds/DoreyG
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He should just walk away from this. He should allow Barry to solve his own problems, disappear back into the night without a word and stick to Jay’s tentative timetable. He should be patient, thoughtful, restrained. He should wait for things to settle into place, as he’s been doing for most of his life up until this point.</p><p>He should-</p><p>He <i>should</i>-</p><p>...But he’s spent far too long waiting, and it’s cost him far too much to ever be worth it. He shrugs, sends a silent apology to Jay, steps from the shadows and finally – for the first time in months – bursts back into life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ohmcgee](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ohmcgee/gifts).



> This is basically a complete AU from series 2 of the Flash, and I thought I'd get that out of the way early on. This will bear no resemblance to the world of the show, apart from the characters and _maybe_ a few similar plot points. It involves the alternate Wellsobard from On Bated Tooth and Claw finding the Barry of the show universe, and spins off from there. I'll try to put significant changes (such at the fact that Ronnie and Caitlin were never together in this universe, and the fact that Jay is married to Joan as in the comics) in the notes of each chapter - but if you're confused by anything comment, and I'll try to clear it up?
> 
> Right, I think that's about it. I'm hoping that this'll go long, I've currently got 7 chapters written after this, so I hope y'all enjoy the ride! :)
> 
> (Oh, and because I know some people really don't like character death: the major character death in this refers to the Barry Allen of the alternate Wellsobard's universe. His death will be referenced a bit, but the other Barry is fine for now.)

“Well,” he says the moment he gets through the portal, standing up from his dramatic crouch – the _only_ way to travel – and crossing his arms as he surveys the room, “obviously our universe got all of the fashion sense.”

“Wells!” Jay cries joyously from the door, strides several quick steps towards him before stopping and frowning. He likes Jay, as much as a supervillain can like his ridiculously hatted nemesis, but he most certainly doesn’t add to the general decor, “uh, Harrison? Whatever your real name is? I’m not entirely sure what I should call you. I mean, referring to you as the Reverse Flash all the time just seems a little...”

“My real name is irrelevant,” he sighs, hopping off the podium. Pauses briefly at the wounded look on Jay’s face, then rolls his eyes and carries on, “but, to save your poor little mind from shattering, I generally go by Eobard. I assume the rest of this universe is better than this room?”

“Eobard,” Jay repeats thoughtfully, still summons a rather half-hearted glare when he reaches his side. He ignores it, even when they were proper enemies Jay’s attempts at venom were more amusing than anything else, “and, yeah. It doesn’t hold a patch to our universe, I’m afraid, and everybody here seems a lot more likely to be a jerk... But it definitely has its good points.”

“Hm,” he murmurs, thoughtfully.

“And, y’know, you’re a bit of a jerk yourself!” Jay offers cheerfully, beaming like he’s actually proud of himself- the innocent, misguided lamb, “so you’ll probably like it even better than I do.”

“ _Hm_ ,” he repeats pointedly, and stares at Jay until the other man ducks his head and blushes a little. So nice, so sweet, so very innocent that it’s a downright pleasure to make him squirm, “wonderful. But, again, slightly irrelevant – does it have what we’re looking for?”

And Jay looks up at him, and Jay stops blushing, and Jay smiles so wide and bright that his heart starts beating again for the first time since he found the love of his life dead in a pool of his own wasted blood, “yes, Eobard. It has a Barry Allen.”

 

\--

 

“So,” he says, thirty minutes later when he’s sped them to the nearest nondescript coffee shop and Jay has caught him up on all the details in true boy-scout fashion, “Barry Allen, innocent fanboy and love of my life, is now a speedster and you, dubious scientist and my former self proclaimed nemesis, have now lost all your speed and are basically a glorified janitor?”

“Say it a little louder, why don’t you?” Jay snaps a touch sulkily, gives him a look that is obviously meant to be full of wrath but that instead just resembles a particularly petulant child, “stand on top of Star Labs and shout our secret identities to the world. Superheroes are here, come slaughter our loved ones!”

“Technically I’m a supervillain,” he points out mildly, pours a little sugar into his coffee cup and levelly meets Jay’s eyes, “and all my loved ones have already been slaughtered.”

“...Ah,” Jay swallows, hesitates for a second. He tries to take pleasure from it, he really does, but some things are even beyond him when the memory of Barry Allen dead in his bed is so very immediate, “my apologies, I wasn’t thinking.”

“Obviously,” he sniffs, summons a chuckle and sips his coffee. Burning hot and slightly sweet, just how Barry always liked it.

“...How is Joan?”

“Joan is well,” he offers, deciding not to mock for once as he sets his cup back on the table. He’s a dick, but he’s a dick who knows very well how it feels to have his heart ripped out of his chest and crushed in front of his eyes. He doesn’t particularly wish it on anybody else, especially not Jay, “missing you, from what I’ve seen, but carrying on your legacy as best she can. She’s strong. Quite probably stronger than you.”

“That’s Joan,” Jay grins, on a rush of relief. And that’s probably why he still likes Jay so much, even after all the superhero antics – he’s the perfect dose of non-judgement, in his incredibly judgemental world, “has Zoom...?”

“He’s been nowhere near her. I’ve headed her off every time he’s tried,” he smiles quietly, watches Jay beam in response... And, wow, that is really far too sweet for him. His very dickish core revolts against it, “which brings us back to more relevant matters. Zoom is here, isn’t he? Has he gone anywhere near Barry?”

“He comes here periodically. He seems to be able to travel across the universes with ease, I assume because of his high concentration of the Speedforce,” Jay stares at him solemnly, his fingers twitch around the cup, “and he is targeting Barry, yes.”

He sits for a long moment, blood pounding in his ears and air twisting in his throat. Gulps, and forces past the terror of crossing a whole universe just to see his Barry Allen die yet again. Choking on his own blood, unable to be saved because he was too foolish to see what was right in front of him, “because he possesses the Speedforce, or...?”

“Because he possesses the Speedforce,” Jay confirms, and looks briefly edgy. It’s an odd expression, on that face, but with the terror still pulsing through him it’s hard to pay it that much mind, “this earth’s version of you... Is out of the picture. Was out of the picture long before Zoom turned up.”

“Interesting,” he purrs, and shrugs. He doesn’t really care about the other version of him, it’s one more obstacle out of the way as far as he’s concerned, “and how did this Barry gain the Speedforce?”

“He was struck by lightning,” Jay provides quickly, staring at him with an expression of mild exasperation. Bless Jay, he’s probably enquired at length into the alternate version of him and maybe even set up a penpal programme. Such a boy scout, such a _hero_ , “after an explosion at this world’s version of Star Labs. It created a storm that sent him into a coma, and when he woke up... He had superpowers.”

“I can think of nobody better suited for them,” he says before thinking about it, has to duck his head as Jay’s expression melts from exasperation to something infinitely softer, “at least, I assume...?”

“I can see why you like the kid,” Jay confirms cheerfully, and then blushes bright scarlet in a way that he can’t quite hold back a cackle at, “oh, hush, I meant... Not in that way, alright? He’s nice. Brave, bright, so good that it even puts me to shame sometimes. He’s fully worthy of the mantle of a hero, even if he doesn’t seem to realize it sometimes.”

“Really, Garrick? ‘The Mantle of a Hero’? God, all of you heroic types are so pretentious,” he snorts his way to a halt, leans across the table as Jay sends him yet another slightly hurt glance, “when do I get to meet him?”

“Ah,” Jay says slowly, and his pickled expression fades away – becomes something small, and quiet, and heart-stoppingly uncertain, “that might be a problem.”

 

\--

 

“I murdered his mother?” He asks incredulously, several hours of tensely worded exposition later, “and then sent his father to jail? And then dedicated myself for almost twenty years, without pause, to ruining his life and and poisoning his mind?”

“From what I gather, the whole thing was a bit more complicated than that,” Jay mumbles, a touch miserably, “but yes, that seems to be the long and short of it.”

They’ve wandered outside, to prevent the shattering of several coffee cups when Jay properly started getting into his tale. He stares up at the sky for a long few moments, so much smoggier than it is in their universe, and sighs lowly through his nose. Guilt has been a foreign feeling to him for years, and he’s displeased to find it just as bitter as he remembers “...It sounds like me.”

“ _What_?”

“A different me, if my decisions had been more guided by desperation than calculation,” he turns to Jay, plasters on a reassuring smile. It probably works as well on his face as any nurturing emotion does, but Jay deserves at least the attempt, “fifteen years ago we were both trapped in the past, but obviously reacted in different ways. I remembered that I was a scientist, he... Apparently remembered his rage.”

Jay stares at him for a second, thoughtfully. He likes to mock the man for being meat headed, but he’s willing to admit – in another universe, within his own head – that that’s only to hide his discomfort at having somebody almost as smart as him around “...You both stole Wells’ body.”

“We did,” he agrees almost amiably, attempts another smile, “but, I swear, my only crime wad graverobbing. This body was already dead when I found it. His car had flipped, moments before I arrived there. I could not remain as myself, and risk polluting the timeline and changing my life beyond recognition, so... I recycled.”

“That,” Jay says flatly, “is disgusting.”

“Perhaps, perhaps not to a man from the future where such usage is commonplace,” he shrugs, keeps carefully watching Jay’s face – hoping, to his great surprise, for some sign of forgiveness, “but nontheless, I did not do what you assume this universe’s version of me did. I didn’t murder, I didn’t plot, I didn’t do anything other than try to survive. And I am sorry, now, for what I did have to do.”

Jay continues to stare at him, levelly.

“You don’t have to believe me,” he continues, hopeful despite himself. He’s never been hopeful before, it’s almost as bad as the guilt, “you’d be perfectly within your rights to punch me in the face, and work with me only under duress from this point on. But-“

“I believe you,” Jay interrupts quietly, and gives him a tight smile – not entirely comfortable, but enough to work with, “it’s just... You have to understand why I don’t think you should meet Barry yet.”

“I...” he starts softly, shakes his head. He’s too stubborn to stop now, too set in his ways to just roll over and allow the universe to take him wherever it wishes, “did not cross an entire universe, dud not burn down my entire life and stamp on the ashes, just to abandon yet another Barry to the tender mercies of Zoom. Just to leave, without even seeing his _face_.”

“I know,” Jay says quickly, reaches out to grab his arm – dangerous, as he’s started to vibrate, but exactly the kind of foolhardy action he’s started to expect from Jay by now, “I know. And I’m not saying never, honestly, I’m just saying that it’s going to take-“

 

\--

 

Time.

For somebody who has super speed, it sure feels like his life has taken a lot of it. First he spent his entire childhood wanting to grow up, to get away from his childhood and the ghosts that lurked there. Then he spent a good chunk of his adult life wanting it to mean something, wanting to be just as special as the heroes of the past. And, when he got his wish, he spent all of that time waiting to get back – waiting on some home that’d never even existed.

Until he met Barry. And now... Now he’s waiting on that too.

After Jay leaves, back to check in at Star Labs and polish his good guy halo, he goes for a run. He knows that it’s a risk, he knows that he should go back and hide in the bowels of that cavernous building again, but... Well. He’s fast, and smart, and has never been caught before. He always thinks best on his feet, it’s worth the risk.

This universe is everything that Jay said it was, and more. He runs around Central City three times, and finds something that a lesser man would marvel at on every pass. Jay only described the dirt, but he sees the wonder. Their universe’s version of Central City always seemed to be too squeaky clean to be true, but this... This feels real. He takes one pass and sees a thousand glittering lights, singing with glamour. Another, and sees scores of people laughing and dancing and having fun. Another, and sees people struggling and fighting and surviving no matter what the world throws at them.

This is Barry’s world.

He grinds to a halt in the centre of the city, under the covering shadow of a huge old tree. Places his hands on his hips, and slowly glances around at the shining right next to the tarnished. He wonders what this Barry is like. Wonders if he smiles with the same brightness, laughs with the same abandon, bounces on his heels in the same way when he’s pleased. He wonders how he handles the Speedforce, how he acts as a hero. He wonders if his boy is happy.

He even wonders, though he knows it’s foolish and unhealthy besides, if-

...Wait, is that the sound of yelling?

 

\--

 

His universe has numerous weird creatures within it – he should know, he’s betrayed many of them – but he’s still somewhat impressed at the sheer strangeness of a walking shark. He watches, with amusement, as the thing roars with rage. Squints fiercely at the world around it, turns lumberingly to reveal the red-clad victim in its arms-

Oh.

Well. The few times he imagined their reunion, in between working frenziedly on the equipment to get him anywhere close to that, he did not picture it going like this.

Barry Allen, this Barry Allen, is both so similar and different to his one that his heart aches at it. His eyes are wide, his lips are the most tempting shade of red imaginable, he’s throwing himself into danger with that same recklessness that used to madden and excite all at once. He’s dressed in red leather, he’s obviously trying to use the Speedforce, he’s currently being choked by a giant walking shark. It’s a confusing combination at best.

He should just walk away from this. He should allow Barry to solve his own problems, disappear back into the night without a word and stick to Jay’s tentative timetable. He should be patient, thoughtful, restrained. He should wait for things to settle into place, as he’s been doing for most of his life up until this point.

The Shark, a king amongst sharks, lifts Barry higher and reveals a truly impressive amount of teeth.

He should-

Barry chokes a little, helplessly kicks his feet, closes his eyes as if bracing for a whole lot of pain. As if he’s facing Zoom again, vibrating and angry and ready to kill.

He _should_ -

...But he’s spent far too long waiting, and it’s cost him far too much to ever be worth it. He shrugs, sends a silent apology to Jay, steps from the shadows and finally – for the first time in months – bursts back into life.


	2. Chapter 2

The first time that Barry Allen sees him in this universe he attempts to punch him in the face.

"Whoa," he says amiably, and easily ducks the swing. Dodges a second time, and then uses his speed to dart away and come to a stylish stop well outside the reach of those pernicious fists, "calm down, Barry, I'm not here to hurt you."

"You're dead," Barry spits, downright shaking with rage, and... Okay, as much as he loves to believe in his own abilities maybe the boy’s inability to land a single punch wasn’t entirely down to him. Barry is shaking, not the righteous little tremble of rage he’s seen a few heroes give before they dispense justice but a full body shudder like he’s barely avoiding the urge to fall apart, “I saw you die, I saw you dissolve. You’re _dead_.”

“That-“ and he could be sarcastic, he could be cutting, he could be his usual dickhead of a self and stamp all over this boy’s heart without a thought. It wouldn’t take too much effort, he’s done much the same before with relative ease, “Barry, that wasn’t me.”

But he _can’t_.

For as much as he wants to pretend otherwise, as much as he sometimes wishes he could go back a few years and regain the cool heartlessness he made his trademark before, he knows exactly how Barry feels. To see a copy of the boy he loved standing there with not a scratch on him, to see somebody thought long lost looking so very alike and yet so subtly different... Well, it’s almost more than he can take. 

Barry pauses, stills just enough for him to see that much loved face again. A moment of hesitation stretches between them, understated and sharp, “that... Wasn’t you?”

He shakes his head slowly, placatingly. Resists the urge, strong though it is, to vibrate up a storm himself.

“...What?”

“I think you’re aware,” he says slowly, and chances a careful step closer – towards Barry, suddenly alive and well again, “of alternate universes?”

 

\--

 

“I thought I told you,” Jay says, through gritted teeth, “to _wait_.”

“And I thought I told you to keep your hair long,” he replies cheerfully, giving his very brightest grin, “but, as ever in life, it appears that _nobody_ gets what they want.”

The more he sees of this version of Star Labs, the less impressed by it he is. It appears that his alternate self, alongside being a mass murderer and overly obsessive fanboy, didn’t believe in cleaning staff or even vaguely aesthetic architecture. The place is a mess, dingy and tucked away deep underground in a way that practically screams of malevolent secrets. The only staff, seemingly a motley collection of six plus Jay, look decidedly tired and rather washed out in the low quality lighting. It’s a tragedy, and not even a good old fashioned Shakespearian one, waiting to happen.

But, then, he’s hardly making matters better with his resemblance to a supposedly charming madman. And his inability to take his eyes away from this Barry, leaning against the wall and watching him with wary eyes, for more than a few seconds.

“Jay,” Cisco, or at least that’s what he thinks the guy with the rather impressive hair is called, explodes into the freeze frame, “you _know_ him?”

“Uh,” Jay blushes awkwardly, guiltily. Sends one last glare - _adorable_ \- at him before turning back to the gathered masses, “yes, yes I do. I’d like to introduce you all to my universe’s version of the Reverse Flash, Doctor-“

“Harrison Wells,” Caitlin, the doctor of the pack, snaps. Sends him a far more effective glare. She seems fearsome, this one. He’d almost consider liking her if he wasn’t somewhat worried about the possibility of her using her medical knowledge to cause him severe pain, “except his real name is Eobard Thawne, and he’s a murderous psychopath from the future. Why didn’t you _tell_ us, Jay?”

“I-“

“I imagine because he anticipated your reaction now,” he takes over pleasantly, and maintains his brightest smile as every pair of eyes in the room snaps angrily to him, “you shouldn’t blame Jay, he only wished to spare you some mental anguish. He wasn’t deliberately keeping my wicked secrets and plotting your ultimate doom, I can assure you.”

“You’ll forgive us if I’m not convinced,” Joe, possibly the most annoyingly sensible looking person in the room after Jay, snaps. Looks at him like he longs to lift his big cop gun, and shoot, “I mean, you come in here looking exactly like the guy who murdered a lot of people we love. You stride around acting exactly like him, you open your mouth and sound exactly like him, you-!”

“Aren’t like him,” Barry interrupts quietly, still from the wall, “not if you look close enough.”

“...No, no I’m not,” he agrees into the silence that follows. Everybody’s attention switching to Barry instead – Jay and Cisco looking confused, Joe and Caitlin concerned, the old professor fascinated, the girl who hasn’t spoken yet remaining as numb as she’s been since he walked through the door, “I’ve heard stories of my doppelganger, and while we have our similarities I feel confident in stating that we’re very different people. I’m not here to ruin your life with my futile and destructive obsessions, I’m here to help.”

“To help?” The old professor – Martin Stein, apparently a successful man in this universe as opposed to a somewhat amiable stoner in his – turns back to him with an elegantly arched eyebrow, a politely incredulous expression, “you’ll forgive us if we have our doubts, Mr Thawne.”

“Jay has told you about Zoom,” he answers levelly, can’t quite resist the urge to stare past them all again – to where Barry is still leaning against the wall, still resolutely avoiding anything to do with him, “Zoom... is a monster, and capable of far worse than I can even threaten. I’m here to help you stop him, and to make the universes safer for all of us.”

Silence, again. A long pause that echoes between them.

“...Then prove it,” the numbly silent girl, Iris, finally opens her mouth. And stares at him, with interest sparking hot in her eyes.

 

\--

 

“Well,” he says, as insincerely as he can possibly manage, “ _this_ is lovely.”

“It’s where we put you the last time,” Cisco sneers, with the kind of melodramatic flourish that’d honestly cause him to warm to the boy if it wasn’t for the whole dubiously legal imprisonment thing, “y’know, after you tried to kill us all? Our most secure, most _uncomfortable_ cell.”

“I do not know how I tried to kill you all, because that was not me,” he retorts levelly, and contents himself with the closest thing that he has to a polite smile. He has to fight the urge to snark and poke and twist, for now. As much as he loves toying with people, the priority is making sure that Zoom doesn’t brutally murder yet another Barry Allen, “I assume I can’t vibrate my way out of here?”

“It’s vibration proof,” Cisco confirms, so smugly that it almost warms his cold little heart.

“Or use the speedforce to blast my way out of here?” Almost, being the key word. He has a very cold and very little heart, it’s rather hard to get anywhere close to warming it. The only person who ever got anywhere close was... Best not to think of him, while he’s trying to sell himself as a nice guy, “or create a soundwave to disrupt the locks on the doors? Or create an explosion, and burst my way out like a phoenix reborn?”

“...Huh,” Cisco offers, somewhat weakly this time, and slowly tilts his head, “you can do all of that, then?”

“And more,” he confirms, and resists the urge to give a wicked twinkle. He’s not the villain in this story. He’s not quite sure what he is, yet, but he can’t afford to be the Hannibal Lecter figure behind glass for long, “I can make a list for you while I’m in here, if you think that prudent?”

“If you want us to ever trust you, you’ll do that,” a sudden voice interrupts from the shadows, and Barry steps forwards into the light – deliberately avoiding his gaze, looking so pale through the glass that the urge to protect is like a sudden fist in his gut, “and you’ll stay where we put you, until I- until we say otherwise. Cisco, can I talk to you for a minute?”

He’s so blindsided by the sudden appearance, the sudden urge to take Barry into his arms and still his worrying, that all he can do is silently nod. Watch, as Barry takes the wide eyed Cisco by the arm and leads him out of sight. Stare into space for a long few moments, all on his own with only his reflection for company...

And sigh, lower himself cross-legged onto the floor and close his eyes. He might as well plan, while he’s here. There’s little else he can do.

 

\--

 

In the absence of any distraction, or at least the absence of any distraction that won’t get him locked in here for eternity, he meditates. Allows the world around him, the cold floor and the glass walls and the narrow window of unstylish corridor, to fade away.

It doesn’t matter.

He allows himself to stop focusing on the little details. The rage boiling away inside him, the helplessly pathetic fear bubbling on top, the urge to just burst through the walls of this cardboard prison and run away until he stops _feeling_ things like a dagger in his heart.

It doesn’t matter.

He ignores his feelings, the world around him, the inhabitants of the world around him. He ignores the muffled yelling he hears from just outside, Joe with a gun and Cisco reluctantly stopping him. He ignores the sharp tap of heels, the feeling of two sets of judgemental eyes taking him in. He even ignores the presence that comes after all of those, the small and sad thing that slides down on the other side of the glass only to watch him with red eyes.

It doesn’t matter.

The only thing that does, the only thing that ever has, was murdered brutally in his bed months ago.

 

\--

 

When he opens his eyes, presumably hours later judging by the way the lights have dimmed, the numbly silent girl is sitting on the other side of the glass.

He doesn’t start, he’s far too practiced for something as pedestrian as that, but he does allow himself a few moments of staring. Inches back a little, until they’re separated by more than a thin sheet of glass, “good morning. Are you supposed to be my inquisitor?”

The girl almost smiles, a quick quirk of her lips, but it doesn’t last for long. Several hours after he first glimpsed her expression, he notes that it’s not so much numbness as it is misery – mapped in the fine lines around her mouth, the carefully hidden bags under her eyes, the look in her actual eyes like she’s wept for weeks and still doesn’t see an end in sight. He should know, he’s seen the same expression on his face every day for months now, “nobody knows that I’m here. They’re too busy arguing to pay attention to the cameras.”

“Hm,” he says thoughtfully, and tilts his head. Continues to watch this sad girl, who reminds him more and more of himself the longer he looks, “arguing about me? Or about Jay’s ceaseless obsession with heavy water?”

“About you,” the girl confirms, and almost smiles again. It’s a little closer this time, even if reluctantly so. Considering his current position, he’ll take what he can get, “you, the alternate version of you, hurt pretty much everybody here. Several of us- several of them are rather in favour of not keeping you around so you can do it again.”

“I suppose I can’t blame them,” he allows, and watches her eyes briefly widen in surprise, “what’s your name, mysterious stranger not here to interrogate me?”

“Iris,” the girl replies, in her surprise, “Iris West.”

“My name is Eobard Thawne, pleased to meet you,” he offers honestly, watches her eyes widen again. It’s not that she’s bad at hiding her shock, but he has practice. When you spend most of your days facing off against the good masked men and women of the world, you learn to pick up on tiny facial tics, “I suppose that the alternate version of me also hurt you, Iris West?”

“Yes,” she allows. Stares at him for a second, with teeth gritted and sorrow so raw in her eyes that it’d be hard to face if he hadn’t gained extensive practice over these last few months, “my fiance, Eddie, died stopping you. Died because of you, before I had the chance to even say goodbye.”

He hesitates, for perhaps the first time in his life. Stares properly into the mirror of her grief, the reflection of the leaden weight that sits on his own chest like a constant companion...

“I’m sorry.”

She starts, helplessly obvious without the help of experience. Stares at him like he’s shocked her, the touch of a live wire to an open wound.

“I thought that the other version of me was unwise,” he says delicately, well aware that he’s playing his less than favourable opinion of his other self down if anything, “but now I can see that, if anything, he was borderline monstrous. To take somebody that you cared about away like that, without even a thought... I can only apologise, from the bottom of my heart.”

A long pause. She stares at him with her heart in her eyes, raw and ripped open in a way that he’s uncomfortably familiar with, “you sound like you know what it feels like.”

“Perhaps I do,” he shrugs, musters a casual smile. It’s tiny, and he can feel it warping his lips like acid every moment it remains there, but he feels like he owes Iris West and her obvious grief the effort, “perhaps I don’t. It’s hardly relevant to what you’ve suffered, Ms West.”

“You’ve lost somebody too,” Iris continues stubbornly like she hasn’t heard him, like she’s slowly piecing the parts of some exceptionally painful jigsaw together, “brutally, unexpectedly. You’ve lost somebody that you cared about, somebody that you cared about so much that it almost hurt... Somebody like the Barry from your universe, the alternate version of him that Jay has refused to tell anybody about.”

He stares at her for a second, gobsmacked.

He turns his face away, from both her and the ignored cameras. Stares hard at the glass walls of the cell as he fights to master his emotions, “are you sure that you’re not here to interrogate me?”

“My day job is an investigative reporter, my ability to make rent depends on me figuring stuff out,” he sees the brief flash of a triumphant grin in her reflection, soon replaced by a far more familiar breed of sombre thought, “this changes a few things.”

“Not really,” he says, and turns back to her with his expression mastered. Or as close to mastered as it’s going to get, considering that she’s not the only one who’s just experienced a shock to an open wound, “you could be wrong, I could be lying to you, this could all be part of my evil master plan to gain your trust and then bring this rather dusty version of Star Labs tumbling dramatically down around your ears.”

“Am I?” Iris asks directly, fixing him with a glance so level that it’s hard to maintain any sarcasm in the face of it, “are you? Because I’ve been grieving for a while now, mr Thawne, and I recognize that look in your eyes. It’s hard to hide it, when you’ve had somebody that you loved ripped away without even the chance to say goodbye.”

He stares at her flatly. Manages to hold himself back from shattering completely, just.

“...Oddly enough, the worst moments aren’t when I remember he’s gone,” Iris says softly in the face of his control, leans against the door and presses one sad palm to the glass, “it’s when I forget. I roll over in bed in the morning, I reach for the hollow of him besides me, I expect him to turn around and smile at me like he always used to-“

In the face of his...

In the face of-

Oh, screw his control. He edges back to his old position, presses his hand to the imprint of hers and takes a deeply shuddering breath, “but he doesn’t, because he isn’t there anymore. His smile is gone, the bed is cold, you’re all on your own and he’s never coming back. He’s never coming back, no matter how hard you wish for it. How much you hope for it. How far and fast you- I run.”

“He’s gone,” Iris says softly, gives a wet little sniff.

“And he’s never coming back,” he echoes, soft like a razor blade in his throat. And stares at the lights behind her until the tears in his eyes fade into soft pinpricks of light. Like they have been for the past few months.

“...This changes a few things,” Iris repeats, when they’ve both rattled to some semblance of steadiness. And this time he doesn’t contradict her.


	3. Chapter 3

When he wakes up the next morning it’s to Barry Allen standing on the other side of the glass and staring down at him.

For a moment it’s exactly as Iris said yesterday, the rush of joy quickly followed by the crushing weight of reality. He sits up as smoothly as he can, coughs awkwardly and looks away from those accusing eyes. He isn’t sure how to respond to them, his hair is ruffled and he has morning breath and all the walls he carefully constructed are falling away with Barry standing there before him.

“You aren’t him,” Barry says quietly, shattering the silence with those eyes still so intense, “you look so much like him, but you aren’t him.”

“No,” he confirms quietly, and forces himself to meet those eyes. Has to remind himself, subtly, that his morning breath can’t reach through the glass and his ruffled hair doesn’t exactly matter, “I’m not. But, then, I suspect you realized that the moment you actually looked at me, Mr- Barry.”

Barry nods a little, keeps staring at him. It’s almost too much, yet again. He suspects that it’s going to be too much for rather a long time. A form so similar, and yet so subtly different from the one he loved – hair more ruffled, eyes less wide, body actually muscled under that painfully familiar jumper. If he was a lesser person, and only slightly lesser at that, it would be enough to... “Your eyes are different.”

He blinks, thankfully distracted from his mourning. Can’t help but tilt his head a little in surprise, “are they?”

“His... Were a few shades darker, looked at me in a different way,” Barry hesitates for a second, gives a small shrug and carefully steps closer to the cage, “were hidden by glasses, most of the time. He liked taking them off at dramatic moments, when he wanted you to pay attention to what he was saying. I never figured out if he actually needed them, or if it was just another prop to use against me.”

“...I was short sighted, when I was a child,” he offers, quietly. It was a different him, in a different world and he’s never really been fond of the idea of feeling bad. But Barry Allen has always got past all of his defences, “but that was soon fixed. By the surgery that was commonplace in my time, and then by the speedforce. I haven’t actually needed glasses for at least half of my life, maybe longer.”

“So that was yet another thing he lied about,” Barry snorts, shakes his head. He’s trying to be casual, to play it cool, but he’s seen Barry trying to play it cool and he isn’t succeeding very well, “in one minute, you’ve been more honest with me than he ever was.”

“Barry-“ he starts. Realizes that, for once, he has no idea what to say and briefly closes it again, “I can only apologize.”

Barry snorts, shakes his head, glances away.

“For all that he did to you, for all that he tried to do to you, for the position that he left you in,” he continues stubbornly. Continues to stare at Barry, even if the boy still has his head turned so deliberately away, “all that he did was unforgivable, and I can understand why you feel the way that you do. But, Barry, if you let me-“

“You’ll crawl into my heart,” Barry interrupts, and finally looks back. Fixes him with the kind of glance that he would’ve never seen on his Barry’s face – raw, and closed off, and so cynical that it’s like a knife swiped over his flesh, “and try to ruin my life all over again. Right?”

He narrowly stops his jaw from dropping open. Sits back on his haunches, and helplessly shakes his head.

“...Right,” Barry repeats softly, almost to himself. Turns away again, and heads for the tiny panel by the door that he deliberately turned his face away from last night, “time to stretch your legs, Thawne. As it turns out, we may just have a use for you after all.”

 

\--

 

“His name is Chillblaine.”

“Sounds lovely,” he offers wryly, peers at the image on the screen. The hard looking body gear and the powder blue face covering giving the impression of a man only slightly more intimidating than the lowest class of criminal, “were his parents in the freezer business, or...?”

“His real name,” Iris clarifies, with a rather heartfelt eyeroll in Cisco’s general direction, “is Mark Brasfield. He was your common garden thug, working for various street level gangs as hired muscle, until about six months ago. When Captain Cold decided to free a whole bunch of metahumans from our custody, and made himself somewhat infamous in the process.”

“...Captain Cold?”

“A slightly divergent breed of your common garden thug,” Caitlin explains, making a face, “one who doesn’t shoot so many people and thinks himself noble as a result.”

“That’s not entirely fair,” Barry protests from his apparently customary place against the wall, pushes himself up and ambles casually into the centre. He tries not to stare, but judging by the sudden wash of sympathy over Iris’ face he maybe doesn’t succeed so well, “Leonard Snart, Captain Cold, is a criminal but he has morals. He has this cold gun, but he doesn’t kill people with it. His whole thing is proving that he’s the best thief in Central City without resorting to murder.”

“An admirable goal,” he admits, and narrowly wrestles the sudden surge of jealousy down. He has no right to get possessive over Barry, especially not this Barry with his ever so wary eyes, “I’m guessing this Chillblaine wishes to imitate him?”

Everybody in the room, even Jay standing bashfully in the corner and Stein leaning wearily against a desk, nods.

“...Except with significantly more murder?”

A pause. And then everybody in the room, even the slightly pickled looking Caitlin and the narrow eyed Cisco, nods again. A long silence reigns, in which they all stare at him suspiciously and he tries to look as innocent as possible in return.

“So,” but all good things, or at least excruciatingly uncomfortable things, must come to an end. He claps his hands, bounces on his heels and tries to look more like a productive member of the team and less like the guy who apparently waltzed unto their lives and ruined absolutely everything, “what’s the plan, then? I assume, if I’m out of my lovely abode, that it requires the services of two speedsters?”

“Um,” Cisco says slowly. But does, when he glances over at the boy, look rather grateful for the shattering of the silence, “not exactly.”

“Barry could do this by himself,” Caitlin informs him, in a tone that suggests very strongly that that was the option that she argued for, “but Iris said that you deserved a chance to prove yourself, so this is your chance. Barry will chase Chillblaine towards you. If you can take him down, without any funny business and without killing him, then we’ll potentially consider trusting you.”

“...So I won’t be using my speed?” He asks, slightly incredulous at the mechanics of such a thing, “I will, in fact, just be standing in one spot for an undetermined period of time?”

“Yup,” Cisco purrs, as Caitlin gives the smallest of smirks, “that alright by you, dear Doctor Wellsobard?”

...He glances slowly around the room, at all these people longing for him to fail. Allows his eyes to run over the sympathetic Iris and Jay, the somewhat out of it looking Stein, the almost gleeful Caitlin and Cisco, the closed off Barry standing there and staring at him with an expression that he can’t quite read no matter how hard he tries-

Barry.

“I am, of course, happy to serve,” he nods, and smiles. Keeps his eyes fixed on Barry, even as the rest of the room reacts with quiet shock, “just lead the way.”

 

\--

 

He's always loved to run. Even before he got his powers, it was an escape. He wasn't Eobard Thawne, unloved son of a dysfunctional family, but the wind itself. He wasn't some little spotty nerd who nobody cared about, but a flash of light just like the legends of old. He loves the rhythm of it, the flow, the way that nothing in the world is fast enough to touch him. Even running next to Barry, the one that he wants to touch so badly but the one who is so far out of reach, he's pleased to find that that hasn't changed.

When they grind to a halt, Barry is staring at him like he knows this. Confusion flashing openly in his eyes, something almost close to concern written across his face even with the mask in the way.

He waits for a moment, pretending to catch his breath, and then ever so slowly tilts his head, "what?"

"Um," Barry says, and looks down briefly. Allows his cheeks to heat for half a moment, before he looks back up with a firm jaw and eyes surprisingly fixed, "you run slower than I do. Slower than he did, too."

"Hm," he allows, though he has noticed it. He's just been keeping it to himself, another card in his hand. He's always been an excellent poker player, ready to bluff his way out of anything, and it's hard to lay aside the habit now, "I will be honest with you, Barry, I'm not entirely sure why. The speedforce affects people in different ways, everybody it touches seems to gain a different part of it."

Barry nods slowly, ever the thoughtful scientist even on another earth. Pauses, and then frowns a little, "even alternate versions of the same person?"

"I suppose," he shrugs, smiles innocently. He's telling the truth, but considering his habit of lying it's best to make that as obvious as possible, "it's an inexact science at best. Even on our world, the variations in it seemed almost entirely random. If you add in other worlds, other universes..."

"It becomes almost impossible."

"Exactly," he continues smiling, very deliberately does not get disheartened when Barry fails to smile back. To expect such a thing would be lunacy, considering all that lies between them, "we - me and Jay, I mean - could never quite decide if the Speedforce belonged to the branch of Physics, Biology, Chemistry or Psychology. We've kept studying it, of course, but some things in life just aren't that exact."

"How philosophical. Do you regularly-?" Barry grinds to a halt, closes his eyes briefly. For a moment the desire to ask more, about his understanding of the Speedforce and his relationship with Jay, flashes across his face - but then it's gone, and only the cold wall between them remains, "it doesn't matter. Chillblaine will be heading this way soon. Joe should be standing by to take him in. I have to get going, Are you ready to stop him?"

He doesn't allow himself to be disappointed, because it'd be another small lunacy that he can't afford to indulge in. He only keeps smiling, nods slowly and spreads his arms, "I'm willing to do anything you say, Barry.”

Barry's eyes harden to chips of ice, Barry shakes his head briefly and turns away. The distance between them is palpable, obvious enough that he can almost touch it.

"Good luck, Barry!" Cisco chirps over the comms, deliberately leaving him out of the loop.

'Good luck,' he mouths anyway, meaning it no matter the distance between them. The universes, and the other selves, and the emotions as sharp as daggers just waiting to rip them apart.

...But it's too late. Before Cisco can finish, before he can open his mouth, Barry is a red blur in the distance and he's alone again.

 

\--

 

It’s not his choice, his choice has always run more towards violently amoral action, but Barry told him to do so and so he waits. He stands on the corner of an innocuous street, an average citizen with an identity disguising hood over his head, and watches the horizon carefully. Braced, for any sign of that ridiculous villain Chillblaine. 

His mind, honed by fifteen years in the past and almost as long as the Reverse-Flash, is screaming at him to cut his losses and run. He doesn’t belong here, waiting on a street corner to be a hero. He should bolt from this, run hard and fast until he remembers who he actually is – the man who has tripped up the Justice Society a thousand times, the opposition to anything good in the world all wrapped up in a stylish yellow suit, the bad guy of the story.

But, somehow, he feels like he stopped being the bad guy a few months ago. When he met Barry Allen, when he lost Barry Allen, when he learned what true evil was.

...He’s come too far now, crossed universes and more, to go back to his old perception of self. He’s revealed himself to Jay, sworn to stop Zoom, appreciated Barry Allen’s face alive again. He sees a blur of blue in the near distance, steps forward and balls him hand into a fist.

 

\--

 

"You didn't kill him," Barry says later. After Chillblaine has been taken down, and taken into custody, and taken away as they both lurked in the shadows and tried to look as unobtrusive as possible, "you could've killed him, you could've quite easily killed him, but you didn't."

"You sound surprised," he offers wryly, casually puts his hands into his pockets as they stroll slowly back in the direction of Star Labs, "was my alternate self that keen on using murder to solve all his problems?"

Barry stares at him, flatly. Gives a slow, extremely meaningful shrug.

"...Ah."

"Except he wouldn't have been obvious about it," the ghost of a smile flickers across Barry's face for a second. He looks away briefly, as if trying to hide his emotions, and when he glances back there's that same old wall up in his eyes, "I would've arrived to a dead body on the floor, and him already preparing about fifty lies as to how it got there. It was self defence, or the corpse was a vicious criminal out to hurt everything I loved, or it was to protect me, or... Well, if I listed all of them we'd be here all day."

He stares for a second, sighs out through his nose, shakes his head, "the more I hear of my other self, the less I approve of him."

Barry glances up sharply, almost as if surprised, "oh?"

"He was a obsessive, mass murdering psychopath who seemed to think only of himself," he shrugs, gives the most honest smile he can manage, "and, while I will admit to sharing certain of those traits, he seemed to take them to the extreme. His addiction to ruining your life seems... Worrying, at best."

Barry stares at him for a second, warily. And then, so slowly that it's like watching the grass grow to a speedster like him, allows the side of his mouth to quirk up in a bitter smile, "do you want to know the worst thing?"

He tilts his head, questioningly.

"He wasn't always terrible," Barry stares down at his feet for a long few moments, barks a bitter laugh and glances sharply back up into his eyes, "you can't repeat this to anybody, especially not Joe, but most of the time I knew him... He was nice. More than nice. He was the first person who's ever looked at me like I could do anything, like I was the most important man in the universe. And the way he made me feel- Well, it's hard to describe."

He stares for a second, as close to speechless as he's ever been. The world around them, this strangely fascinating world that draws him further in by the hour, suddenly stops mattering, "hard to describe, but I think I know what you mean."

"You?" Barry arches his eyebrow bitterly, but there's no real bite behind it. He seems too distracted, for something like that, "seriously?"

"It might sound ridiculous, but I know what it feels like when you meet somebody special," he offers a smile in return, a sincerely melancholy one. Pauses on a street corner and glances at the sky above - the fluffy clouds, the clear blue that his Barry will never point at or remark on or laugh over ever again, "the entire world shifts, your entire perception of existence changes, and you don't realize that nothing looks the same until you're already so far in that you can't ever imagine a world without them. It's a powerful thing."

"It's the most powerful thing," Barry agrees, softly. Stares at him rawly, walls down for the first time since they met, "except it's not exactly a positive thing, you see, because now I do have to imagine a world without him."

"Barry-"

"Now I _do_ have to keep existing in a world where every word he ever said to me was a lie," Barry takes in a deep breath, blinks harshly as if narrowly holding back tears, "where every emotion he ever professed to have, every time I thought he actually _felt_ something, just didn't exist."

" _Barry_ -"

"Was just me being stupid," Barry chokes out a humourless laugh, helplessly shakes his head, "and foolish, and exactly as incompetent as he always thought that I-"

" _Barry_ ," and he finally interrupts, finally crosses the space between them and takes Barry's hands between his own. So soft, so warm, so subtly different and impossibly similar to the boy that he lost, "you are not incompetent, you are not foolish and you are _not_ stupid. You are, in fact, one of the most special people in all of creation. And always will be, no matter what happens to you."

Barry stares at him silently for an immeasurably long length of time, stunned.

"And for the record..." He takes a deep breath, smiles helplessly and continues as if drawn on by fate, "I believe at least some of the emotions he professed to have towards you did exist. Even if deep down, even if so buried that he was barely aware of them himself."

"How-" Barry licks his red lips, his eyes are helplessly drawn to them as if by magnetism, "how can you know that?"

"Oh, Barry," he chuckles softly, still helplessly. Watches as Barry arches up towards him, almost subconsciously, and can hardly resist lowering his head in return, "knowing me, and knowing you, how could he ever not...?"

It's an unpleasant shock back to reality, when Barry shoves him back with their lips just a breath apart, but a needed one. The movement is uncoordinated at best, the desperate flail of somebody waking up from a long dream, but he rolls with it - allows himself to be propelled back, and attempts to look as non-threatening as possible.

"You're both obsessive psychopaths who think only of themselves," Barry spits, eyes flashing with a thousand emotions that he can't quite place, and ever so quickly turns on his heel. He doesn't look back, and he supposes he deserves that much, "don't you _ever_ touch me again."

And then he's gone, yet again, and he's left with a sick feeling in his stomach and the feeling of Barry Allen's breath still fluttering across his lips.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chillblaine is, indeed, a character from the comics! He shall play no further role in this story and shall complete no comics actions, I literally just wanted him to be punched in the face.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I said this near the beginning, BUT: Ronnie and Caitlin were never married/together in this universe. They were BFFs, but for story purposes they were never really anything more than that.
> 
> Oh, and while we're noting: Thank you for all the lovely comments! I've been slightly stunned by the lovely and thoughtful response to this, and while I've thanked most of you personally I just wanted to do it again here. You guys rock, and I really hope you like what's coming up. :)

He half expects, when he gets back to Star Labs, to be punched in the face and thrown back into his cell for eternity. But, no matter how long he waits, it doesn’t happen. Barry seems to have vanished, and judging by the studied indifference of everybody around him he did so without giving the news of their near kiss. Eventually, out of necessity, he asks Cisco what his fate is to be – and is directed, reluctantly, to a tiny room deep in the bowels of the building.

It’s there, several hours later, that he looks up at a knock on the door and finds Iris West. Giving him a slightly wary smile, and hesitating as if she wants to believe there's a bond between them but can't be quite sure.

“Iris!” He refuses to disabuse her of the notion, sets aside the rather confusing magazine that he’s been trying to read – he’s not quite sure what a Kardashian is, but he’s pretty sure that they’re either lizard space aliens or the greatest supervillain minds of this day – and smiles, “to what do I owe this rather unexpected pleasure?”

“Such a charmer,” Iris laughs, and doesn’t look like she’s mocking him. So oddly earnest under all the grime, this universe is – he must admit to rather liking it, “you did well today.”

“You’re the first person to tell me so,” he says wryly, sighs and shakes his head; “or, at least, the first person to tell me so without expressing severe surprise that I didn’t murder the man in question. I gather that I have you to thank for the opportunity?”

“I suppose, sort of,” Iris shrugs, offers him a sympathetic smile. She doesn’t look like she knows how it feels to find out that your alternate self was a life-ruining maniac, but she looks like she’s at least prepared to sympathise, “everybody deserves a chance, even you. And now that you’ve proved yourself...”

“Everybody is going to welcome me cheerfully, with arms thrown wide,” he chuckles, shakes his head. Iris looks for a moment like she wants to argue, but soon sighs and accepts resignation instead, “I think neither of us are optimistic enough to believe that, Ms West.”

“Can you really blame them?” Iris asks quietly, giving him the kind of stern look that even he’s impressed by.

“I’d be a true monster if I could,” he assures, and watches Iris’ nod with a complex mixture of emotion. His security here depends upon convincing everybody that he’s significantly different from his other self, it’s a difficult line to walk, “I assume Joe is just being a protective father?”

"That's largely it," Iris sighs, immediately getting what he's talking about. She seems a smart girl, does Iris - not one to miss how everybody has been looking at him ever since he arrived here, "he's been overly protective of both me and Barry, for as long as I can remember. And considering how much you, the alternate version of you, hurt us both..."

"He's going to take a while to warm up to me," he summarises, with a wry smile.

"Right," Iris nods, gives him a faintly apologetic glance. Not too apologetic, but he'd feel a little too uncomfortable about that, "plus, Eddie was his partner. I love my dad, but he has a long memory when he's been wronged."

"Fair enough," he sighs, and continues offering that wry smile. There's little else he can do, after all. Might as well try to work through this situation as best he can, now that he's decided not to run, "that covers Joe. But what about Caitlin and Cisco? And the unfortunately... Unhealthy looking Doctor Stein, who appears to agree with most of their opinions?"

"Ah," Iris makes a face. Even before she continues, it conveys pretty much everything, "that'd probably be because of Ronnie."

"Ronnie," he repeats slowly, the weight of expectation heavy in his stomach. By this point Iris could tell him that the other version of himself had mass murdered a city in the blink of an eye, and he'd probably shrug and believe her, "let me guess, another person who my alternate self killed in the name of unhealthy obsession."

"Indirectly," Iris informs him, and then looks somewhat confused as to why she's even half-heartedly defending his long-departed other self, "and only possibly, considering that we never actually had a body to confirm it. Ronnie was Cisco and Caitlin's best friend, he worked here as an engineer before your other self meddled with everything and caused the Particle Accelerator to explode. The explosion caused his cells, and himself, to merge with Doctor Stein and create a new metahuman. Firestorm."

"Sounds unpleasant," he comments, wincing. Phasing can sometimes be difficult enough, to become fully bonded with another human being...

"It was at first, from what I can gather. But, in one of his few not completely dickish acts, the other version of you fixed him. Stabilised his cells, and helped him to become an actual superhero as opposed to a literal hot mess," Iris sighs, shakes her head, "of course, he kind of ruined that goodwill when he opened a portal to another universe that sucked Ronnie through and almost destroyed the entire city. But..."

"Lovely," he huffs, shaking his head. This entire situation just keeps getting better and better, "so Caitlin and Cisco are against me because I possibly killed their best friend, and Stein is against me because I separated him from the other half of his soul."

"Not to mention possibly dooming him to a slow and painful death," Iris says helpfully, at least gives an apologetic smile when he stares at her, "becoming Firestorm altered his cells, so that he basically needs to merge with Ronnie to survive. Now that Ronnie is gone, and he can't merge with anybody... Well, we're not sure how long he has."

"Or if you can do anything about it," he finishes, and gives a heartfelt huff. Problems on top of problems, an endless tower that makes his previous life - before he'd even heard of a Barry Allen - look like a cakewalk in comparison, "wonderful, beautiful, magnificent. Tell me, Ms West, is there anybody in this universe who isn't contractually obliged to hate me because of the atrocities that my other self committed?"

"Well..." Iris muses slowly, but smiles before he can completely give in to despair - wide, and bright, and more hopeful than he's ever been in his entire life, "if you can convince me to lay aside my contractual obligation, you can probably convince anybody."

 

\--

 

The next morning he wakes up not to somebody watching over him with intense eyes, but to a rather erratic knock on the door. He yawns, rolls off the bed and ambles over to the door clad only in his boxers. He actually managed to strip down last night, after Iris left - there was little else to do with his time.

"Eobard," luckily, given his current state, it's Jay who he opens the door to. The man looks eager for a moment, and then his eyes dart down to his bare chest and he turns a shade of bright scarlet that can best be described as _hilarious_ , "uh, morning. How are you?"

"My back aches, and I'm bored as hell," he says matter of factly, and leans against the jam of the door. Watches, with some interest, the way that Jay somehow gets even redder and seems to lose the ability to meet his eyes, "but it's still significantly better than being in a prison cell, or even back in our own universe just waiting for Zoom to strike."

"I..." Jay gulps a little, examines the floor by his bare foot like it's one of the most fascinating spots in creation, "can understand that. Look, Eobard-"

"Did you have anything else that you wanted to talk to me about?" He asks mischievously, unable - not to mention unwilling - to resist the urge to be as mild a dick as possible, "or was this just a _social_ call?"

" _Eobard_ ," Jay gulps again, screws his courage to the sticking post and aims a stern look in the general direction of his chest, "could you _please_ put on some clothes before I continue?"

"Hm," he purrs, casually, and blurs right up into super speed. When he bounces to a halt again, cheery and with hair ruffled, he's slipped back into a new outfit - a nice suit, one that makes him look something close to _distinguished_ , "better, my dear Mr Garrick?"

"Most definitely," Jay mutters, although his eyes register a great deal more wistful ambiguity on the point. A long pause, as he seemingly gathers himself, and then he raises his chin again and attempts a semi-professional smile, "I thought I should tell you that there's another villain about, one that the rest of the team is considering sending you out against again."

"So this isn't so much an official call, as a friendly warning," he muses, and slides out through the door as he gives the matter some thought, "how lovely of you. Do you know anything about this... Ah, villain?"

Jay colours again, just slightly, at the mocking note in his voice - but determinedly keeps his chin raised. Interesting, maybe the man is finally gaining some mental fortitude from being around him for so long, "the only thing I know is that he calls himself the Pied Piper. I can guess at his abilities from that, but..."

"Don't strain yourself, Jay," he chirps cheerfully, and practically bounces down the corridor. Aware that a positive attitude makes all the difference, or at least annoys people enough to be amusing, "I mean, we wouldn't want you to blow a gasket. What good would you be then?"

"You are such a-" Jay snaps, stops himself, huffs and follows in his usual kind and forgiving way, "well, I suppose I should be pleased that being in a new universe isn't affecting your wonderfully sunny personality too much. You are aware that if you keep doing this, and acting at least mildly pleasant, that they may just start to trust you?"

"Hm," he says thoughtfully, at least mildly admiring of Jay's optimism even if he had such a thing surgically removed before he even started to time travel, "I'm not sure that they'll ever truly trust me, no matter how many fetch and carry quests I do for them."

"Eobard," Jay frowns, starts giving him that stern look again - like he's the only possible voice of reason, in an absolutely insane world, "you can't give up hope, not yet-"

"I'm not giving up hope," he contradicts cheerfully, and keeps on walking - bouncing on his heels, off to a new day with hopefully at least one less stomach punch than the last, "I'm simply saying that maybe there are better ways to earn their trust, and that _maybe_ I have a few more in depth ideas on those ways."

Jay hesitates for a second, confused, "such as...?"

And he grins, and bounces, and keeps on strolling with a projected amount of cheer that he hasn't actually felt for months, "have you ever heard of a man called Ronnie Raymond?"

 

\--

 

"His name is-"

"The Pied Piper," he interrupts, and offers Cisco the politest of smiles when the man spins angrily in his direction, "oh, don't mind me. It just seemed rather obvious. I assume there are further pertinent details beyond that?"

"You-" Cisco's lips purse together, and he hides a downright grin as Jay glowers at him from the background. The man may be a stick in the mud, but he is largely right - being a complete dick helps his cause in no way, "there are numerous further pertinent details beyond that, doctor smart guy. His real name is Hartley Rathaway, a former employee of Star Labs before your alternate self ruined absolutely everything. Pied Piper was just a codename that I gave him."

"And a very fine codename too," he offers sincerely. He's not sure if it does much good, Cisco's eyes widen in surprise but his face puckers so angrily that he half considers calling a medical doctor, "I assume it was chosen because of his powers...?"

"He's not a meta," Joe chips in triumphantly, looking rather like he at least wants to _try_ and score a point.

"He uses technology to create roughly the same effect as one, though," Caitlin corrects, looking like she'd prefer to let Joe score his point but is bound by science to stick to the facts, "when we last fought him he tried to use a sonic device to, well, _dissolve_ Barry. We ruined it, but he escaped from Central City soon afterwards and we lost track of him."

"But he's now returned," he says delicately, and watches them all reluctantly nod, "and, given his past pattern of behaviour, the current assumption is that he's rebuilt the device and is looking to get revenge for the way you bested him last time."

"Uh," Cisco glances at Joe, who looks mildly angry. Glances at Caitlin, who gives a somewhat puzzled shrug, "yes, broadly. But how do _you_ know about his past pattern of behaviour?"

"There was a Hartley Rathaway in my original universe too, I've... Interacted with him several times," he smiles politely, watches Jay's eyes narrow at the obvious euphemism. Let him guess. Given his current position, he's hardly going to be stupid enough to get into his true history with Hartley, "the details obviously vary from universe to universe, but from what you've said some things inevitably stay the same."

"Yeah," Cisco narrows his eyes, glares at him deliberately, " _exactly_."

"We can discuss the potential dubiousness of my motivations later," he sighs, narrowly resists the urge to roll his eyes. Being nice doesn't come naturally to him, but he can at least try not to be his usual level of terrible, "what do you need me to do this time?"

"Hartley knew you in this universe too," Caitlin offers, as Cisco's face goes pinched and angry again, "given how resourceful he's been in the past we're pretty sure that he would've heard of and reacted to your counterpart's death. Imagine his surprise, when you appear in front of him looking perfectly well and acting like absolutely nothing happened."

"Ah," he says slowly, grasping the somewhat insulting plan in one satisfying moment, "I am to be an ace in the hole, then."

"A distraction," Joe corrects, with a roll of his eyes.

" _Bait_ ," Barry corrects again, finally making his appearance in the doorway. Deliberately avoiding his gaze, like he's been deliberately avoiding him since last night, "ace in the hole is too positive a term, for somebody like you."

 

\--

 

Barry doesn't talk to him, all the way to Hartley's location. Barry doesn't even look at him, right up until the point where they end up standing at the edge of an ordinary looking square and staring out at the mass of faces. It's like he's not even there, like he's a blank space in the universe not worthy of the most cursory of attention.

It shouldn't hurt, he's been steeling himself against getting overly involved since he got here, but... Despite the Speedforce, he's still human. And to see a face so close to the one he loved unwilling to give him the slightest glance is something close to agony.

"That's him," Barry interrupts his moping, but hardly invalidates it with his clipped tone and continuing refusal to give him even the briefest glance, "in the green hoodie, by the tree. Do you see him?"

"He looks exactly like my universe's version of Hartley Rathaway," he answers wryly, playful to cover the _ridiculous_ pain, and quirks his lips up in a smile even as Barry scowls, "so, yes, I do notice his presence. What do I do?"

"We've discussed this," Cisco's voice comes over the comms, tinged with so much honest frustration that it's an effort not to burst out laughing at the sound of it, "just approach him, get his attention and keep him distracted enough that he can't use whatever tech he has on hand. Then Barry will do the _proper_ job of coming up behind him and grabbing him."

The _proper_ job. He half smiles, at Cisco's obvious disdain, and spares a brief glance at Barry before striding obviously across the square like a peacock. Barry doesn't even glance at him in return, continues to act like there's a mysterious blank spot in the universe.

...Lovely.

Hartley looks exactly like he did in his universe, down to the faint spray of freckles stretching down to invisibility under his shirt. There must be differences, there have been differences in every counterpart that he's met so far, but whatever those differences are they're hidden carefully by his clothes. Unavailable to him, unless he chooses to go down the seduction route again.

Almost a pity, that he's only had eyes for one man ever since he met Barry Allen. He waits, until he's close enough to avoid causing a scene but far away enough to avoid a fist in the face, and then cheerfully opens his mouth, "Hartley!"

This Hartley looks up, and his eyes widen. He looks stunned for a second, and then angry, and then sick to his stomach as if he's been confronted by a ghost that he never expected to return. Odd, how he's pretty sure that that's exactly the expression his version of Hartley would have if they ever crossed paths again, " _you_."

"In the flesh," he says, and smirks. If he narrows his eyes he can see a flash of red in the background, hovering pointedly as if he doesn't want to get too far away.

"You- you're dead," Hartley splutters, obliviously shaking as the red gets closer and closer behind his head. Poor Hartley, always so focused - he really does deserve better, "I read it in all the papers, I saw it on the news. You _died_ , you _can't_ come back again."

"This is probably the part where I say that reports of my demise have been greatly exaggerated," he yawns. Watches for a second, as the flash of red hesitates almost thoughtfully in the background, and then smiles as it darts forward and grasps Hartley firmly in its hold, "but, unfortunately for seemingly everybody, that isn't entirely accurate."

 

\--

 

"You seemed to know him well," Barry sniffs later, after they've delivered Hartley into custody and sped their way merrily back to the lab of utter loathing, "Hartley, I mean. The way you talked to him was almost... Friendly."

"I was friendly, with my universe's version of Hartley," he offers, and again fails to go into any further detail for the fear of appearing _gauche_. They turn through the bowels of the lab, heading ever deeper towards the place where he first arrived, "can you blame me, for some details carrying over? I mean, if you can hate me because of what my other self did..."

Barry flinches, open and unguarded. Quickens his pace until they're basically just a step below super speed, "there are _many_ reasons why I don't trust you, Thawne."

It isn't long, at that pace, before they emerge into the cavernous room where he first arrived. Cisco is apparently working on some sort of improvement down here, and it suits his purposes far too well for him to question it. When they enter into the room everybody looks up, and then immediately smiles at Barry and pointedly ignores him. Subtlety, this universe has never quite learned the meaning of it.

Jay, noticing this in his usual _almost_ astute way, tries to bridge the gap as well as he can, "another criminal successfully brought in."

"Yeah," Cisco mutters, deliberately poking at a wire, "by Barry."

"As helped by Eobard," Iris, also noticing, sighs. She looks about a step away from rolling her eyes, has done pretty much since he met her. He can admire that trait in a person, "yeah, we would've captured him eventually. But you can't deny that his help saved us a hell of a lot of time."

"If he isn't now secretly in league with Hartley," Joe offers, trying to sound joking but with an amusingly serious note to his voice, "of course."

" _Dad_ -"

"I can move at superspeed, so that is a possibility," he agrees, with a small smirk, "but Hartley cannot, so it is a ridiculous one. How could I form an evil league with him if he could've only heard the proposition as a low buzz? It barely makes _any_ kind of sense."

Joe's face tightens, he looks for a moment like he wants to go for his gun. Everybody else in the room, with the exception of Jay and Iris, look rather like they'd support him in such an action. The atmosphere, unpleasant before, suddenly goes actively hostile - pressing against him like a knife to his throat.

And he's never been good at holding his tongue, in the face of blatant dislike, "forgive me if I'm wrong, but I'm getting the impression that none of you really like my jokes."

"That was supposed to be a joke?" Caitlin asks, staring at him with such openly hostile eyes that it's a miracle that he doesn't burst into flames, "because it sounded like you just being a dick, like you've been ever since you got here."

"I am a dick," he confirms cheerfully, because he's never denied his true nature. He's not a good guy, has never particularly understood the urge to be one, but... "But, as I thought we established in our first conversation on this issue, I'm not currently anything more than that. My dickishness doesn't have any particular malice behind it, any deep desire to ruin your lives and revel in the ashes left behind. I'm not him."

Cisco openly scoffs. Caitlin narrows her eyes suspiciously, Stein summons up what would be a truly formidable glare if he wasn't dead on his feet and even Jay looks a little uncomfortable.

"I may look like him, but I'm really not," he continues levelly. Because he's faced scorn before, and anybody who thinks that such a petty thing will scar him in any way is a fool at best, "I've done bad things in my own universe, I'll admit to them frankly, but I was not responsible for the atrocities here. I didn't murder Barry's mother, I didn't force Eddie Thawne to kill himself, I didn't engineer a situation where Ronnie Raymond was forced to throw himself into a wormhole to save the world."

Stein finally starts, finally struggles free of his illness. Everybody stiffens at his words, but he staggers forwards with blazing eyes, "don't you dare say his-!"

"The problem is," but Barry, to his surprise, is the one who interrupts him. Is the one that steps forward into his line of sight, glaring at him with a rancour that he never expected to see on that face, "that you say all of that, you protest that you're the good guy here and we're treating you terribly for no reason, but your actions don't back it up."

"Barry," Iris tries in his defence, taking over as the air is robbed from his lungs, "he's helped you multiple times, he's _trying_ -"

"You still act like him," but Barry ignores her, just keeps staring at him like there's nothing else in the universe, "you still act like a dick, you still talk like you'd happily ruin everything and you still try to _hurt_ us every single time you open your mouth. I'm not sure why you're here, but it's certainly not to be a good guy."

He stares in response, slowly tries to open his mouth and protest as best he can-

"It's certainly not for _us_."

But can't. Because that... That scars, in a way that he never thought he'd feel again after his Barry died.

A long silence stretches, potent and helpless between them.

"...You're right," he manages eventually, and watches Barry's eyes briefly widen in surprise, "at least on some points, because even if you don't believe it I _did_ cross an entire universe just to see you again. But actions do speak louder than words, and my actions up until this point have been somewhat less than reassuring."

"Eobard, don't-" Iris starts angrily, Jay a step behind her with his mouth open and his face angry.

"No, he _was_ right," he interrupts them both, raises a hand and keeps his attention fixed on Barry. Barry whose forehead has wrinkled, Barry who is staring at him like he's trying to parse the meaning of his words, "but what if I change my actions. What if I _do_ prove myself not just by word, but by deed. Would you believe my sincerity then?"

"Uh," Cisco interrupts awkwardly, as Barry completely fails to answer in favour of staring at him with an intensity that would be almost uncomfortable on any other person, "all the offence in the world, pal, but it'd take a pretty big deed to change anything."

"Seconded," Caitlin practically spits, looking so angry on behalf of Barry that it's almost sweet.

"Thirded," Stein agrees, with another flash of his eyes.

"Hm," he says thoughtfully, and turns slowly on his heel. Finally rips his gaze away from Barry to look around the room, like he doesn't already know what he's looking for, "what if I took action to fix at least one of my counterpart's misdeeds, to return somebody who you all thought irrevocably lost?"

"Barry's mother is dead, and bringing her back would shatter the timeline," Joe offers slowly, as if talking to an idiot, "Eddie is dead, and bringing him back would resurrect your counterpart and lead to _double_ the fun."

"True, on both counts," he allows, and shoots Barry a briefly sympathetic glance - one that he doesn't quite know what to do with, by the wrinkle of his forehead, "but Ronnie Raymond, beloved friend and other half, may well not be. And may well be able to be retrieved without irrecoverably ruining _anything_."

And Cisco's eyes bulge comically out of his skull, Caitlin's jaw drops like its been unhinged, Joe looks like he's been punched in the gut and Stein-

"Ronnie..." he breathes helplessly, his eyes wide and hopeful.

It's all the encouragement that he really needs. He spares one last glance at Iris and Jay, both staring at him like he's gone slightly mad, and then turns on his heel - bolts towards the portal between worlds at full speed. The last thing he sees is Barry's eyes, suddenly widening as if he realizes just what lengths he's prepared to go to. And then...

Blinding light, back to earth two in search of the mysterious Ronnie Raymond.


	5. Chapter 5

To be honest, he never expected to go back to Earth 2. Until his spur of the moment idea to speed matters up, he had thought that universe dead to him – a receding blur in the distance, never to be thought of again. It had no version of Barry Allen, after all, and without Barry Allen there was simply no point to it.

It doesn’t seem to have changed much, in their brief absence. The streets are still clean, the people still look annoyingly wholesome, the entire scene still seems covered in that sepia glow that has always sickened him to his stomach. He sighs, pauses briefly on a street corner as the world ever so boringly progresses around him. Jay would be stunned, but he really must admit to preferring the amusingly named Earth 1 – at least things actually seem to happen there.

Despite his bravado, he actually has little idea of how this is going to progress. Ronnie Raymond could be anywhere, in any state. He could have even, though he doesn’t want to admit it, actually dissolved in the portal and left no trace of himself behind. This is going to be like finding a needle in a haystack, and that’s at best. At worst he could be searching for a nonexistent holy grail for the rest of his life, wasting everything for people who may well continue to hate him anyway.

...He starts to smirk, slowly

Because luckily, for both him and those who hate him, he may just have an ace up his sleeve.

 

\--

 

Joan Williams is a plump woman in her mid twenties who works as a nurse at Central City hospital. He never really met her, in the distant past where he was still definitely the bad guy and Jay was still definitely his foe, but his dear Scarlet foe has always made the habit of mentioning her in sickeningly dreamy terms. She's apparently level headed, immensely sensible and has at least a base grasp of science. All in all, the perfect ally in his search for a man who may no longer exist.

...And the access to Central City medical records is definitely a help.

He briefly debates the best way to approach her - pretend to be a patient? Politely arrange an appointment? Knock on her door and delicately explain the situation over a few in depth visits? - but in the end decides that keeping to his character is likely to yield the best results. He speeds into her kitchen before she heads to work, leans casually against her fridge as she's just finishing her breakfast. The perfect action of an absolute and complete dick.

It takes her a moment to notice him. But, when she does, she starts like she's received a shock to the heart and grasps her breakfast knife in her hand like she's about ready to attack, "god in heaven."

"Not quite," he purrs, and finds himself both surprised and impressed when she takes the opportunity to give a heartfelt roll of her eyes, "but there's time yet. Joan Williams, I presume?"

"Joan Garrick," Joan offers proudly, and narrows her eyes at him like she's not impressed at all. Interesting, he's always been deliberately contrary and drawn to those incapable of caring about a single part of his awful majesty, "we got married, just before Jay- went travelling. And you'd be, by your general demeanour-"

"Harrison Wells," He provides, narrowly resists the urge to give a proud little bow. Yet again in a position where he has to restrain his natural urge to be an utter bastard, in favour of gaining genuine help, "but, alas, I am afraid that that is not the full story. My real name is-"

"Eobard Thawne," Joan interrupts him, and gives another roll of her eyes as he briefly freezes in shock. He has been underestimating this woman, she seems to be on a level of capability far above that of her husband, "also known as the Reverse Flash, also known as that gosh darned jerk who threw my husband through a wall when we were still engaged."

He can only manage a somewhat baffled blink, for a long few seconds. Eventually smiles just slightly, pleased in a way that he hasn't been for quite a while "...Gosh darned?"

"His words, not mine," Joan gives a tight little smile, but finally lays her knife down. A moment of hesitation passes between them, and then she sighs lowly and shakes her head, "you seem somewhat surprised that I know all of this."

"A little."

"My husband actually communicates with me. Rare in the superhero community, I know, but hardly something that stunning," she sighs, shakes her head at him. Another moment of consideration passes, slow and appropriately thoughtful, "are you here because of him? Did something go wrong in that other universe that he went to? Is everything-?"

"Everything is alright with Jay," he reassures her, calmingly raising his hands, "well, he lost his speed, but-"

" _What_?!"

"-He's fine other than that," he finishes despite her shocked rage, attempts another calming smile to settle her down. It almost certainly doesn't work that well, he's never really been the soothing type, but her anger eases to bafflement and that's good enough, "I'm not here to bring you terrible news about your husband, Mrs Garrick. I'm here because I need to find somebody, and I think that I could use your help."

"Losing his speed is pretty terrible news, for him," Joan mutters, but still fails to pick up her knife. Actually seems to think for a second, before sighing and climbing determinedly to her feet - like she doesn't quite approve, but can't bring herself to turn away somebody in need, "but we'll cover that later. How can I help?"

 

\--

 

“Don’t you think this is a little suspicious?” Joan hisses, as they carefully make their way up the inside of the hospital, “I mean-“

“Yes, I agree, lying our way into a hospital to kidnap a man from another universe is a little suspicious,” he interrupts her blithely, sends her a smirk as they finally reach the correct floor, “we’re probably breaking several laws every time we move. But, and I will be perfectly honest here, I thought that was obvious from the _outset_.”

“I didn’t mean _that_ ,” Joan snaps, and gives him one of the most impressive glares that he’s ever had the pleasure of receiving, “I just meant... Look, doesn’t this all seem a bit easy to you?”

“In what way?” He asks, trying not to let his brief flash of concern show on his face.

“You come to me wanting to know where a lost man from another universe is,” Joan offers flatly, gives him a look like it’s obvious. Like she’s currently experiencing the gnawing pangs of anxiety over it as they speak, “and I happen to work at a hospital where a guy exactly fitting that bill suddenly appeared a few months back. Do you have any idea how unlikely that is? A universal traveller turning up on this world, in this country, in this city, in the area of _this_ hospital...”

“Mrs Garrick,” he interrupts, trying not to look too unsettled. It is, perhaps, harder than it should be. Her words correlate uncomfortably with what he’s been thinking, “we’re still not entirely sure that it is him. Let’s not count our chickens before they’ve hatched.”

“I know,” Joan sighs, bites her lip, glances around like she feels something sinister coming on the breeze, “but...”

And isn’t that reassuring.

Central City hospital is an old brick building in the city centre. Their security is awful and everybody in it seems to have the same old Earth 2 problem of looking drugged out of their minds on happiness – but even he has to admit that it seems a nice enough place to be struck down by illness. The man who may well be Ronnie Raymond’s room is pleasant and sunny, the space of it only highlighted by the utter lack of visitors. Bully for free health care, he supposes.

Not that the man who may well be Ronnie Raymond seems to appreciate it. He remains coiled in the sheets, only turns his head to look at them as they curiously approach right up to the bed. He’s classically handsome, with the kind of square jaw that’d be the envy of pulp action heroes anywhere. He looks about as grey as Stein did, and somewhat more unfocused. His eyes keep darting around the room like he’s looking for something vital- no, some _one_. He used to think that sympathy was something alien to him, but he feels about as much sympathy for this boy as he does for Iris.

...God, what is earth 1 _doing_ to him?

“Ronald Raymond?” He asks, and receives little response – only a slightly terrified flicker of the eyes, the poor boy getting somehow paler, “don’t worry, your friends sent me. I’m here to get you away from this terrible place and back into their loving arms.”

A long silence, and then the man who may well be Ronnie surprisingly forces open his mouth “...You?”

“Ah, yes, my looks,” he sighs, and ignores Joan’s confused frown at his side as best he can, “I may look like the man who ruined your life multiple times, but I’m not. I’m his alternate. And, while I will admit to being a dick, I am most surely on your side.”

The man who is almost certainly Ronnie gives him a suspicious glance. Joan, still at his side, continues to give him a confused one. He has to admit, it wasn’t the most shining of heroic statements.

“They’re all waiting for you, Ronnie,” but faint heart never won fair lady. Or, for that matter, kidnapped an alternate universe lost soul from their hospital bed. He smiles tightly, in response to their disbelief, and reaches out – hauls the man who is almost certainly Ronnie to a sitting position as best he can, “Caitlin Snow, Cisco Ramon, Martin Stein. They all long for you to come back.”

“Stein...” That, at least, finally gets a reaction. Joy, brief and intense, flashes across definitely Ronnie’s face – but is soon replaced by gnawing terror, a horror in those dazed eyes that seems oddly familiar, “they shouldn’t have sent you, either of you. They’re putting themselves in danger.”

“In danger?” Joan asks, glancing between them with that confusion still potently clear in her eyes, “what do you mean in danger? What could possibly-?”

“ _He’ll_ come,” Ronnie provides miserably, eyes still so wide with terror. And suddenly, before he can even think to brace himself, his stomach drops so hard that he can barely stop himself from gagging, “and he’ll take everything I love, everything we love, away.”

 

\--

 

It's surprisingly easy to get definitely Ronnie Raymond out of the building. Joan requisitions a wheelchair, he hovers around in the background looking vaguely authoritative and soon they're off and away with Ronnie bundled up as securely as possible. It speaks, yet again, to the frankly _embarrassing_ lack of security on this earth.

"Who was 'he'?" Joan whispers to him as they make their way out of the building, concern written clear across her face, "a villain from his earth? A bad doctor? Or...?"

She sounds convinced by neither of those, and frankly he can't blame her. There's a hostile energy in the air, a dark malice that reminds him far too much of that terrible day where he lost everything. He narrowly stops himself from gulping, just keeps moving. If he moves fast enough, maybe he can outrun what he fears is coming, "I don't particularly want to think about it, Mrs Garrick."

"Not thinking about it doesn't make the problem go away," she points out sensibly, shoulders so tense that it's a miracle her head doesn't pop off, "granted, overthinking it also does no good, but... What if it is who we think it is?"

"And who do we think it is?" He asks stubbornly, still taking refuge in ignorance. He's perfectly happy ignoring what she's saying, it's worked for him so far, "the 'villain' from his earth? The bad doctor?"

"You know very well that it's neither of those people," Joan snaps, but not exactly at him. Her shoulders remain tense, her eyes remain subtly terrified - given everything that's happened, he can hardly blame her, "what if _him_ is actually who we think it is, Mr Thawne? What if _him_ is-"

" _Don't_ ," he starts, barely restraining the urge to gag again as the malice in the air increases into an active pressure against his skin, "say his-"

...But, unfortunately, this isn't quite like Harry Potter. And avoiding saying the name of his worst nightmare, the thing that ripped apart every single part of his secure and stable life, isn't enough to keep it at bay.

The malice in the air increases to something almost loud enough to be heard, and suddenly there's a familiar streak of blue that throws both him and Joan back. There's a crackle, a buzz, a sense of pure _hatred_ far beyond what even he has felt - and when he can finally peers through the terror, when he finally defeats the urge to just run for his life as fast as possible, he sees exactly why.

Zoom stands between him and Joan, holding the helpless Ronnie by the throat. He looks exactly as he did months ago, except somehow more intimidating. He tilts his head slightly, and blue lightning crackles across his suit like hellfire, "you."

He's never really been terrified before, he's always considered himself the master of such a thing, but suddenly he's screwed in place by the thrust of it. This is the man that murdered Barry, this is the thing that took his entire life in hand and tore it _apart_. And suddenly all he can see is the bloody mess of Barry's neck, all he can hear is the trembling rush of fear in his ears.

"I did not expect you," Zoom continues levelly, and glances at Ronnie thoughtfully. The man looks faint with fear, he can empathize fully, "I thought you would run for your life, as fast as you could. I thought, instead, to have..."

He gulps, wavers on his heels, can't even summon the strength to proudly raise his chin.

"A speedster from another earth," Zoom finishes, almost smugly, glances at him like he knows what effect his words will have. A dagger in his heart, thrusting deeper with every breath, "a speedster... Such as Barry Allen. Another Barry Allen, to steal from and tear apart."

He shakes, like a leaf in the breeze. Is frozen, so completely that there's no way he can even think of shattering through.

"A pity," and Zoom knows again, Zoom always knows. Zoom glances at Ronnie, glances at him, and takes one menacing step forwards like this is going to be one of the most pleasurable occurrences of his utterly evil life, "but I shall find him, eventually. And _you_ shall do for now."

And he closes his eyes, swallows, prepares to see _his_ Barry again if there's even a single bit of justice in the universe...

And is surprised. When there's the sound of compressed air, a bullet thudding hard into flesh and a screech that's more surprised than pained. A moment, and then he opens his eyes to see Joan standing there - gun in hand, and eyes blazing.

"...Well," he says, and is ashamed by how he can't quite manage to stop his voice from shaking, " _that_ was unexpected."

"A girl has to be able to defend herself, even if her husband is a speedster," Joan points out, smugness overridden by pure relief, and allows her gun hand to drop down - scrambles over to Ronnie, sprawled on the floor with eyes helplessly wide, "come on, let's get him out of here."

 

\--

 

He was planning on the subtle approach, a gentle stroll back to the portal between worlds, but it's too late for that now. Zoom already knows they're here, Zoom already wants their blood. He hefts Ronnie under one arm, lifts Joan with the other and bolts in the direction of earth 1 as quickly as possible. It isn't quite a screaming retreat, but it's close enough to be identical to any witnesses.

"I got him," Joan yells, into the wind as they navigate the quaint streets of earth 2 for definitely the last time, "but... I'm guessing that wasn't what you saw?"

"Oh, Mrs Garrick," he pants, but the usual superior scorn isn't there. It's hard to manage such a thing, when it still feels like your heart is about to rip its way out of your chest from the sheer terror of existence, "you got him, but that'll hardly _hinder_ a creature such as Zoom."

A long pause, as Joan thinks this through with remarkable calmness. Ronnie has already passed out under his other arm, the stress of Zoom and the speed of their flight obviously a little too much for him "...Speedster healing?"

"Amongst other things," he says darkly, and phases them all through a car in his terror. It leaves his head pounding, but it's still far better than the slightest risk of Zoom catching up to them, "I'm starting to believe that Zoom isn't entirely human, Mrs Garrick. He's a force of nature, a nightmare made flesh, a _creature_ come to punish us for all of our sins and more."

"...Well, that's insane," Joan sniffs sensibly, turns her head up to give him a look so stern that he'd be tempted to applaud it at any other time, "Zoom is a living being, just like you and me. The fact that I could hit him at all shows that he isn't indestructible."

He snorts lowly, sceptically. The terror still coursing through him in the most unpleasant way imaginable.

"The fact that I could hit him at all," Joan continues anyway, with such a show of common sense that he can't help but marvel at what she's doing in their world at all, "shows that he can be _stopped_."

"A nice thought, Mrs Garrick, but possibly an inaccurate one," he sighs, shakes his head, somehow - with his thighs burning and his head aching and the fear still _burning_ like a fire in his chest - manages to pick up speed as he sees the light of the portal in the near distance, "try to hold on. This _may_ be a bumpy ride."


	6. Chapter 6

He doesn’t so much jog to a halt as grind to a halt, half losing his footing and juddering his way across the floor. Ronnie slips from his grip, rolls gently across the concrete with his head still lolling and his eyes still closed. Joan narrowly remains clinging on, but when he manages to turn his head in her direction she’s gone a shade of green that can hardly be called healthy. It’s hardly his most shining moment.

“Eobard!”

...But, then, he’s still alive and everything he’s ever cared about is here. So, maybe things aren’t all _that_ bad.

Barry surges up towards him, eyes wide and worried. There’s no barrier between them, no guard. Concern is naked across the boy’s face, and that’s something that’s going to keep him warm for a while. He goes to his knees, grabs for his hand, stares at him half like he’s having a heart attack, “are you alright? What did you think you were doing? Where did you-?”

...And then catches himself. Realizes, in almost painful slow motion, just who he’s talking to and draws back his hand in one fast jerk.

“I went back to my earth,” he provides quickly, knowing very well that lingering won’t be good for either of them. Speed is what they do, and speed is the best way to carry them through the tangled mass of emotion that exists between them, “to retrieve certain pertinent things that’ll make our lives far easier in the future. May I introduce you to-“

“I’m not a thing,” Joan mutters from under his arm, yanks herself free with a gulp that can be described as sickly at best, “I’m a _person_ , with a _gun_.”

“-Joan Garrick, in possession of a gun which she just used to shoot Zoom,” he provides smoothly, and watches Barry’s eyes widen as he makes the connection in his head – the significant name, that of course he wouldn’t miss with all his bright intelligence, “and, perhaps more relevant to you and yours, the long missing but now returned-!”

“Ronnie!” A voice yells from the doorway, and suddenly Caitlin is shooting across the room with Cisco and Stein hot on her heels. Their little threesome throw themselves down by the stirring lump of Ronnie Raymond, crowd themselves around him like worshippers witnessing a miracle, “he’s alive!”

“...Ronnie Raymond, apparently dedicated to stealing my thunder,” he sighs, but not with too much feeling. Smirks up at Barry, who has spared only the briefest glance over at the adoring huddle and is now back to staring at him with a wonderfully confused wrinkle between his eyes, “but oh well, I suppose you should expect that sort of behaviour from a practical Lazarus.”

“Back from the dead,” Barry says slowly, thoughtfully, staring at him helplessly like he can’t quite bring himself to stop, “you brought Ronnie back from the dead.”

“Well,” he makes a face, shrugs a little. Notes, absently, that Joan is watching them from the side with some curiosity and not a little amusement, “from Zoom, actually. I assume we’re still counting those two things as different?”

“You fought Zoom,” Barry gulps, looks just a little dazed as hell, “just to rescue a man that you’ve never even met and barely even heard of?”

He makes a small face, “well...”

“Well,” Joan interrupts, almost smugly as she continues to glance between them with a truly terrifying amount of mischief in her eyes, “can you really blame him? I mean, if it gets you to look at him like _that_...”

“ _Joan_!” A loud yell shatters the awkward pause, as Barry goes bright red and he helplessly grinds his teeth together, and suddenly Jay is striding across the room with arms open wide. Iris just behind him, with fierce joy in her eyes. Joe just behind them, looking the perfect mixture of confused and happy all at once. 

And suddenly the atmosphere of the room transforms from awkwardness to joy, with him right at the centre of it.

 

\--

 

Later, when they’ve taken their party from the unwelcoming basement to a more private room, Stein approaches him with a smile on his face and lingering tears in his eyes. Already the man looks better, a flush of health in his cheeks and a sparkle in his eye that he’s never seen before. It’s touching, in an obscure way that he can’t examine too closely for fear of his reputation, “I cannot thank you enough.”

Before, the urge to mock would’ve been overwhelming. Now he takes one look at the completion on Stein’s face, and finds that he can’t quite summon the energy, “that’s perfectly alright. Please, don’t strain yourself.”

“At my age?” Stein mocks himself anyway, laughs as he narrowly manages to hide his expression, “no worries, my dear boy, I feel better than I have in months. And it’s all thanks to you.”

“And Joan,” he points out levelly, even if she’s off with Jay and currently unable to get offended, “and, I will be honest here, Ronnie himself. As much as I like to take credit for everything in the universe, I really must insist on scientific accuracy in this case.”

“Well, I can certainly approve of that,” Stein laughs, but continues looking at him like he’s some sort of hero. It’s an odd sensation, both troublingly oppressive and strangely addictive at the same time. For the first time he understands Jay’s motivations, “but I shall remember what you did, nonetheless. I thought that he was lost to me, gone forever. I thought...”

“That you would never get to tell him how you felt,” he provides, because he has eyes and the way that they interact is several levels beyond obvious, “that you would die apart from him, separate and alone.”

“I-“ Stein starts, and colours just a little. It’s answer enough, to somebody who has experienced as much as he has, “well, I wouldn’t put it exactly that way – it makes the entirely physical bond sound almost romantic, in a quite inaccurate way – but...”

“Mm,” he says, and resists the brief urge to roll his eyes. It’s surprisingly weak, for reasons that he doesn’t want to examine all too closely, “may I give you a word of advice, Dr Stein?”

“Uh,” Stein offers, still so revealingly red. Yet again, it’s like a mirror – except this time showing his past, before he lost everything and was so comfortable lounging in his helpless arrogance, “well, if you absolutely must...”

“Tell him how you feel,” he orders, more honest than he’s been since he was a child. Raises his hand, and gives Stein a stern glare when the man looks tempted to interrupt, “tell him how much you love him, while you still have a chance. You never know what could happen in life, you never know what could go wrong. Before you know it Zoom could return and slit his throat right in front of your eyes, and you’d never have the chance again.”

“I-“ Stein mutters, looking both palely terrified and heatedly confused all at once. An interesting mix, maybe he should consider giving up this whole superpowered shebang and dedicate his life to studying it “...I don’t know what you mean, Dr Thawne.”

“Of course you don’t,” he sighs. Smiles wryly, and turns on his heel and out of the room, “I’ll just leave you two alone, to your purely physical relationship.”

 

\--

 

“Dr Thawne!” Caitlin catches up with him in the corridor, as he’s walking away. Judging by her general demeanour, he would put good money on her listening in. Her hair is all ruffled up on one side, and there’s a sympathetic light to her eyes that was noticeably lacking before, “I just wanted to thank you, for all that you’ve done for Ronnie and those who care about him.”

“I-“ he starts. And pauses, hesitates on a sigh. He should capitalise on his advantage, should strike while the iron is hot and make sure that he remains in their good graces, but it’s been a long day and he doesn’t quite have the energy for his usual amount of guile “...Am not entirely worthy of your thanks, Dr Snow.”

“And you deserve it exactly because you admit that,” Caitlin says, surprisingly, and smiles at him as he allows the weariness in his bones to trick him into an entirely unguarded blink, “the other Dr Wells, the other version of you, would’ve allowed thanks to be rained down on him for doing far less than you did. But you... You did an absolutely wonderful thing today, and then act like it’s nothing. That’s worthy of any number of thanks in my eyes.”

He opens his mouth for a dizzy second, hesitates and then closes it. There’s very little he can actually say, in response to that.

“I’m starting to think,” Caitlin offers with a slight smile. Noticing his hesitation, his sudden uncertainty, the tiredness seeping so deep into his bones that he wonders if he’ll ever get it out, “that maybe we’ve all misjudged you, Dr Thawne.”

“Maybe you haven’t,” he whispers. And realizes only afterwards that he was being entirely honest, when the aftermath of his words burns on his tongue like an active flame, “the more I hear of my other self, of the things that he did, the further away from and closer to him I feel. I tell myself I would never do some of the things he did, would never even think of going that far, but then I hear another detail of his personality and... I know, in my heart, that if a few of my decisions had been different I would’ve been exactly like him. That if I don’t watch my decisions from now on, I could still be the villain of this tale.”

Caitlin watches him carefully, with her head tilted to the side. Her eyes are thoughtful, but not unsympathetic, “Dr Thawne...”

“It just makes me think,” he interrupts her, sighs raggedly, runs a hand through his hair. He’s too raw to pretend right now, and that’s becoming more obviously dangerous by the minute, “and should make you think, could any of us become the villain if our story was just a little different? And can any of us really be a hero in one universe, when we were a villain of the worst kind in another?”

“...I think you can?” Caitlin offers quietly, into the silence of his despair. And even offers him a smile, when he glances up at her in surprise, “and I think that none of us are fated to act in a certain way, or bound by some universal law. We can all be either heroes or, as apparently everybody from earth 2 terms it, villains. And we can all, if we really put our minds to it, develop past that simple binary and become something more complex. Something better.”

He stares at her for a second, helplessly mute. And then suddenly finds himself smiling, so bright that it feels unable to be contained on his face, “you are possibly the wisest person who works here, Dr Snow. My apologies for not noticing it earlier.”

“If you can convince somebody to give me pay rise, then we’ll call it even,” Caitlin laughs, and gives him a look that can best be described as fond. He never really had friends, before a few months ago – now he suddenly finds that he may well have a wealth of them, “now, as the wisest person here I advise you to go and get some rest. You’ve more than earned it, after all.”

 

\--

 

"Hey, Thawne!" Cisco calls out as he passes the control room. Loud and forceful as ever, but with the least hostility that he's ever had the pleasure of hearing from the man, "can I pick your brain for a second?"

"I was just heading to bed," he offers guardedly, but apparently he's a lot easier than he thought and the sudden openness is far too much to resist. He hesitates on the threshold of the room for a second, and then carefully heads in - is somewhat surprised, when Cisco greets him with a wide smile as opposed to a fierce glare, "but I am, of course, at your eternal disposal. What do you need?"

"You almost made that sound sincere," Cisco chuckles, but doesn't look too offended. Spins back to his quite impressive array of computers with that wide smile still firmly in place, "you faced Zoom when you were back on Earth 2, right?"

"I..." He starts, and then shakes his head. He has never been one to endlessly go on about his troubles to others, and he's not about to start now when he's just beginning to be accepted amongst them, "suppose that is a way that you could describe our interaction, yes. I assume you want to know my impressions of him?"

"Exactamundo," Cisco cheers triumphantly, gives him a grin like he's actually helping. Which is... A new sensation in so many ways, "he's trying to kill Barry, any details you provide on him could be the line between victory and defeat. Light and death. Good and evil! What did he look like? How fast did he go? Did he give away any of his aims, his plans as to what he's going to do with us? Is the name Zoom truly _accurate_ for him?"

"...Considering the speed at which he goes, I'd say so," he provides carefully, starting from the last point for the sake of clarity, "and it certainly helps to make him a little less terrifying, a little more human and a lot less like the living personification of nightmare fuel, so I'd say it definitely serves a purpose."

"If we can laugh at him we're less likely to freeze up in terror every single time that he appears," Cisco says like that's not exactly what happened in the other universe, points at him triumphantly, " _nice_. What about the other things?"

"He reiterated his aim to destroy Barry. To destroy all speedsters in all worlds, actually, because apparently there's no such thing as overkill to a nightmare death being who can move at superspeed," he smiles wryly, settles a hip against the desk as he reluctantly turns the confrontation over in his head, "he gave the impression that he'd been holding onto Ronnie as some sort of lure, to draw Barry out for an attack."

"So he wasn't expecting you?" Cisco asks, eager to a level that is just a step away from _adorable_.

"...Well, he is _now_ ," almost a pity, to have to squash it. And maybe he is actually becoming a better person, just as Caitlin said, because he's never thought it a _pity_ to have to crush adorable things before, "he went faster than me, and faster than Jay's old speed. I haven't really had the chance to measure Barry, but based on my meagre observations he was a little faster than that too."

"Oh," Cisco sighs, and he actually feels _sympathy_ for his disappointment.

"He looked much as he did before, to my recollection, except... Somehow more terrifying, though I am aware that makes absolutely no sense at all," disgusting. He shrugs to cover the sudden surge of feeling, tries to summon his most sarcastic smirk through his tiredness, "he seemed a little more surrounded by his trademark blue lightning, as if he'd fed recently or was overexcited by something. I'm afraid that I couldn't see any details beyond that."

"..Well," Cisco says slowly, into the space left after his almost apology, "from what Jay said he is wearing a full-face mask, right? Considering that, it's kind of miraculous that you've remembered as much as you have. Good job, buddy!"

"Buddy," he repeats in shock. Finds that, with his bone deep tiredness, he has to fight to keep an honest smile off his face, "you know, I don't think anybody has ever called me that before."

"After all you've done today, you deserve it," Cisco informs him, and actually grins like he means it. Like he isn't just some sort of threat, or the unfortunate reminder of a long departed murderer, "but, if you aren't fond of it, you get to pick a different nickname. Reverse-Reverse-Flash? Speed Demon? The Dude in Yellow? Mister Speed? Or, and this is one of my very best works here, _Doctor_ T?"

"I approve of none of those trademarks," he says, but finds that he can't quite keep his voice flat. A helpless smile is spreading across his face, the only possible alternative to outright laughter that he can think of, "I'm going to bed now. I look forward to hearing your more sensible alternatives in the morning."

"Tough luck, Doctor T, Those _were_ the sensible alternatives!" Cisco yells at his retreating back, but there's laughter in his voice and that... That means more than he ever thought that it would.

 

\--

 

He finally gets back into his room in half a daze - staggers to the small bed in the corner, shucking clothing as he goes. Jacket casually discarded, followed by pants, followed by shirt until he's down to his boxers and sprawling bonelessly across the sheets. He can't recall being this tired in all his life. It seems to have screwed deep into his bones, a heavy and dazed weight that he can't quite seem to shake.

...It's been a good day.

Or, at least, he supposes that's the end result. It's been a tiring day, a terrifying day, the kind of day that he never expected to experience again in all his lifetime - but, in the end, a good one. He saved a man's life, he reunited at least two families, he faced down the terrifying spectre of every single nightmare that he's ever had and emerged from the confrontation alive. And even if he still feels that screwing terror in his chest, even if his Barry still died, even if this Barry still won't look at him with anything more than guarded suspicion-

...Well, he still has to count it as a good day. It's either that, or curl up into a ball and never move again. And he's many things, but a miserable ball of pain has never been one of them.

He sighs. Rolls over on his side, and tiredly closes his eyes. It's been a long day, but the benefit of such a thing is that tomorrow has to be shorter. He settles into the blankets, settles into the darkness, and allows himself - in a burst of sentimentality that he's been determinedly repressing ever since he crossed over into this universe - to whisper, "goodnight Barry."

...And is somewhat surprised, just before he falls asleep, to hear something that sounds almost like a sharp intake of breath. A scatter of light thuds, like rain on the roof or the scatter of feet moving away at superspeed.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> None of the science in this chapter is medically accurate in the real world, but the DC universe does not generally work on medical accuracy. So apologies, but yes!

"Okay," Joan starts about a week later, when everything has settled down to a state just a little calmer than it was, "I've held my tongue for long enough now. What are you planning to do about Jay's lost speed?"

The question, to him, comes pretty much out of nowhere. Barry is off fighting various crime incursions, this time with the tentative help of the almost recovered Firestorm. Everybody else has scattered to either support him or do their own thing, and he's taken the opportunity to scuttle down to the lab and busy himself with a good old bit of research. He certainly wasn't expecting to be accosted halfway through, asked about something that he hasn't even spared the briefest moment of thought on. 

He hesitates for a second, and then offers the only reply he can really think of "...Am I supposed to be planning anything?"

"I would say so," Joan huffs, and fixes him with the kind of glance that is just a breath away from actively terrifying, "he's miserable without it. It's affecting his life, it's affecting his work and it's putting him in severe danger. Something needs to be done, before Zoom comes back and threatens us all again."

"I... See," he offers slowly, and attempts to look a little less like he's adrift in a sea of confusion. He's had a week to recover by now, any slips have become far less than acceptable, "and I suppose, by your tone and the way that you're currently glaring at me, that I'm the only one who can do it?"

"You have superspeed yourself. And, beyond that, the scientific knowledge and experience to have at least some idea of how to help him," a woman as well bred as Joan doesn't shrug, but she does give a little smile like it's absolutely obvious. It's nice that somebody feels that way, because currently he's still helplessly adrift, "and you're his best friend. If anybody is invested enough to help him, it should be you."

"...Uh," a state which he's afraid isn't likely to change anytime soon, especially after _that_ bombshell dropped right into the centre of his worldview, "have you discussed this with Jay?"

"Not exactly," Joan sighs, but continues giving him that look. That stern look, that determined look, that almost _hopeful_ look. A few months ago nobody had ever looked at him with hope in his entire life, now multiple people seem to have picked up the habit, "but I'm his wife, and I can see that he isn't happy. Just as you're his best friend, and should also be able to see that something is wrong. I can't do anything about it, but you can and you _should_."

"...I'm not obligated to Jay," he says slowly. Tries to sound just as stern and determined as Joan, but somehow finds that a feeling much like confusion robs the words of their heat, "I'm grateful for his help, and his support, but that in no way constitutes a contract to help him with whatever goes wrong in his life. I can sympathise, I can even pretend interest sometimes, but I am busy with my own problems and cannot spare any time to fix his. My apologies, Mrs Garrick, but I am not going to change my entire worldview for somebody I am merely cordial with."

"You-!" Joan looks like she's about to yell at him for a second, a display of temper that he would take in his stride, but then the rage fades from her face. A crafty expression replaces it, something infinitely more dangerous, "fine, you're a selfish jerk who cares for nobody but himself. Is that what you're saying?"

"I'd use more charming terms," he says slowly, sensing a trap more potent than Zoom has ever laid, "but..."

" _Fine_ ," Joan repeats, but fixes him with a glance of utter determination. The kind of thing that it's impossible to dodge, no matter how fast you are, "just as long as you're aware that, by that logic, you should shove this Barry Allen into Zoom's arms and run away as fast as you can."

He stares at her for a second, silent and dumbstruck.

...He sets aside the wiring that he was idly tinkering with, and sighs heavily as her eyes light up, "I suppose that I could take _some_ time to look into the issue."

 

\--

 

"What are you _doing_?" Iris asks a few days later, staring out over his lab from the safety of the doorway.

"Good morning, Ms West," he responds cheerfully, pushes himself back from the desk as carefully as he can. He's sad to admit it, but the entire area is a mess at the moment - piled high with vials and paperwork and every relevant piece of scientific equipment that he can think of. Such is the price of science, alas "...Day? Night? Forgive me, it feels like a while since I've left this room."

"Evening, actually," Iris provides with an arch of her eyebrow. And eventually, because she is a brave woman, makes her way across the room - picks her way through the mess until she can settle comfortably at his side, "which kind of proves both of our points. Answer my first question."

"I'm currently doing science," he answers smartly, and gives her a mischievous smirk when she only offers him a slightly amused quirk of her mouth in reply, "a secret serum to take down both this universe and my own and put me into a position of ultimate... That was a joke, please don't tell your father."

"Or publish it in the paper?" Iris chuckles, shakes her head at him almost fondly as he arches an eyebrow, "no, you're right, the prospect of my dad finding out is significantly more dangerous to your personal health. Don't worry, he'll never hear a word of it... You know, unless he's bugged your entire lab and is currently watching this entire conversation over a live feed. _Then_ you'll have something to worry about."

He glances dramatically around the room. Is somewhat surprised, not to mention begrudgingly amused, when he glances back to find Iris smiling at him like she's being perfectly serious over the whole issue "...Should I be worried over how you actually consider that a real possibility?"

"Hey, he's done it to Barry before now," Iris shrugs, gives a little laugh. He's honestly not sure if she means it to be reassuring, or deeply terrifying in a way that he's not quite sure how to respond to, "I mean, years ago. But when you've got a kid who likes running away a lot and access to surveillance... I wouldn't put it past him, is what I'm saying."

"Huh," he answers, has to blink for a second as he processes that entirely unsettling concept "...You come from a terrifying family, Ms West."

"I shall take that as a compliment, Doctor Thawne," Iris answers him gaily, and then immediately fixes him with a stern glare before he has the slightest chance to actually recover. Because she's a canny one, is Iris West, and he's starting to respect that more by the day, "now, what are you actually doing and why has it required you being down here for days straight?"

Of course, he _could_ still deny her. He could still push back against her, and assert his old lone wolf persona to a quite distancing effect... But, now that he thinks about it, he doesn't really want to. He's still not used to being surrounded by likeminded people, is certainly not used to having something as simple as friends, but it feels nicer than he ever thought it would. He doesn't want to drive them away, doesn't want to keep toiling in silence and solitude.

He pushes himself back from his desk, spreads his arms with his usual flair of the dramatic and allows Iris to look at his plans, "you're aware that Jay has lost his speed, I assume?"

"Of course, he lost it crossing the universes. Presumably in some way relating to Zoom, considering that you didn't suffer the same problem," Iris leans in, allows her eyes to track over the words. He's unsurprised, when her eyes narrow about a minute in, "you want to restore it."

"Indeed," he confirms, already preparing for the rest.

"But the main idea you seem to have, from this, is using your blood to trigger some sort of reaction," Iris' eyes remain narrowed, her arms come to cross across her chest in a show of judgement that he's more impressed than intimidated by, "you're still trying to prove yourself to us, by doing a seemingly endless train of stupid things."

"Blood transfusions are hardly stupid, Ms West," he corrects her mildly, but smiles to let her know that he's got her point. She's a smart girl, she'd accept no less, "but, yes, maybe it is another way to prove myself. Another way to show that I'm not the man that ruined all your lives, and then dissolved before you could get any form of justice."

Iris doesn't particularly react, to his joking tone. Iris only keeps staring at him levelly, like she's trying to impress something upon his mind, "you don't have to keep doing this, Eobard. You keep helping us, you rescued Ronnie, you faced down Zoom-"

"Ms West," he interrupts her, and narrowly resists the urge to flinch out of his skin at the mention of Zoom. Iris stops, but there's a reluctant twitch around her mouth that suggests that her silence is temporary, "you're aware of how your father still looks at me, you're aware of how _Barry_ still looks at me. I will always be proving myself, and if I help as many people as I can along the way that is hardly a bad thing."

"You just-" Iris starts stubbornly, and then sighs. Hesitates for a second, and then pulls up a seat besides him and settles her upper arms on her thighs, "I still disagree with you, but I'm starting to think that there's no earthly way that I'm going to talk you out of it."

"An accurate assessment, Ms West," he says, relieved and confused all at once, and even manages to summon up a smile for her, "you're starting to accept that we're too much alike."

"And that's hardly a bad thing," Iris laughs, and edges a little closer to him. Picks up one set of plans, and holds it firmly in her hand, "if I can't stop you, I might as well join you. Is there anything that needs doing? Fetching tea? Organizing paperwork? Taking out any bugs that my father may have left around with my mad shooting skills?"

"Oh, Ms West," he smiles, surprised at the sudden burst of warm fondness that spreads steadily through his chest, "I'm sure that we can find many things for you to do beyond that."

 

\--

 

He expects to be alone after Iris leaves later that night. He expects to ignore her stern instruction to get some rest, work on the cure for the rest of the night, eventually fall into a brief and uncomfortable doze over his desk and wake up the next morning to repeat the whole process with an added crick in his neck. It isn't the best plan he's ever had, that was most firmly the one where he ended up punching both Jay and Alan Scott in the face that one time, but it's certainly a plan and he's _fine_ with it.

...Right up to the point where Barry Allen speeds into his lab. Grinds to a halt on one foot, and glances around the room with a slightly edgy interest.

"Uh," he says, instead of any of the actually intelligent things that he has planned, slowly gets to his feet as Barry finally takes a deep breath and forces himself to look in his direction, "hello, mr- Barry. I wasn't expecting you, obviously. I thought you'd still be out, chasing... Who was it today?"

"Still Weather Wizard," Barry makes a face, but at least he's actually talking to him. He'll take any amount of faces, any amount of adorably wrinkled noses and pouting lips, if it leads to actual words from that direction, "sorry, Mark Mardon. He was easy enough to capture last time, but... Apparently he's upped his game, learned some new tricks, remembered that I don't react well to being shocked with lightning."

"How rude of him," he offers, and winces. Of all the things to say... Barry Allen deserves sonnets and songs and devotions, and he inwardly kicks himself every time that he fails to give them, "are you alright, after that incident?"

"I'm fine. I mean, a little singed, but..." Barry obviously stops himself, breathes out slowly through his nose. It's almost like they're as nervous as each other - which is understandable, he supposes, considering all the things his other self did, "I bumped into Iris, on my way down here. She told me what you were doing."

"And that's why you're down here," he summarizes, manages a slight smile. Because at least this is Barry interacting with him, even if it is just a check-up, "to make sure that I haven't tricked her, and aren't secretly concocting some nefarious scheme."

"That's not-" Barry halts again, breathes out through his nose again and pinches the skin between his eyes. His Barry did that once or twice, after a long day of work. It strikes him more than he ever thought it would, "look, I trust Iris. If she says that you're not planning something, then I'm inclined to believe her. I just wanted to- I just _needed_ to-"

He stares, fascinated by Barry's hesitation like a normal person would be fascinated by a car crash. There's a potential here, something small and soft and liable to vanish if he makes the slightest wrong movement.

"...I don't know," and Barry huffs out a long gush of air, Barry shrugs like he's at the end of his rope. He seems a step away from just vibrating his way out of here, and the tension is both slightly worrying and entirely captivating, "I don't know what I want, I don't know what I need. I just know that I heard that you were down here and I had to go and see you. Which is confusing as hell, because I don't know about you either."

"You don't know about me?" He asks quietly, and watches Barry's sharp little nod like it's a work of art, "what don't you know about me, Barry?"

"You look exactly like him, but you're not him," Barry snaps, so fast that it's like he's been holding this in ever since their near kiss - an ever building litany of confusion, boiling to the point of explosion, "you act exactly like him a lot of the time, but then you do something completely different. You're a dick, but then you agree to help us with whatever we need. You pretend like you're the most selfish person on the planet, and then you cross an entire universe to save a man that you never even met. You actually state that you care for nobody but yourself, but then you face down Zoom ever so bravely when you could've run-"

"I didn't face down Zoom ever so bravely," he interrupts, finally boiling over a little himself. The terror of the past weeks, the nightmare lurking in the darkness, surging up helplessly within him, "I froze up, I put both Ronnie and Joan in terrible danger, and afterwards the only thing I could think of was running for my life."

"...But that makes no difference!" Barry still finishes, stares at him stubbornly. In that moment so like his Barry, standing in front of his door and insisting upon the meeting of his parents, that any urge to fight is taken out of him in one brutal punch, "because no matter how much you wanted to, no matter what you felt, you still didn't run. You still stood there and faced him, and afterwards came back to a place where you could quite easily face him again! You say that you're a coward, you say that you're selfish, you _act_ like you're a villain. But- but you're not."

He swallows. Finds that, in the aftermath of that fist in his gut, he can't really do anything but remain silent.

"...Can you understand why I'm confused?"

"I don't know what you expect me to say," when he finally regains his voice, it's a ghost of what it usually is - a pale, raspy thing that he can't quite seem to steady. It only gets worse, as Barry's eyes widen in obvious acknowledgement of his weakness, "I don't know how you expect me to react, and I certainly don't know what you want."

"Well," Barry offers a wan smile, shakes his head as he slowly settles into Iris' recently vacated chair, "at least that's two of us, who have no idea."

A long silence stretches between them. So profoundly confused that he almost starts laughing at it.

"...I can sympathise with how you feel, though," he starts eventually, spins in his own chair to give Barry as close to an encouraging smile as he can manage. He's not sure how well it'll work, but the boy doesn't immediately run screaming so he supposes it can be counted as progress, "to see somebody so similar and so different to the Barry Allen that I once knew- well, it's somewhat more difficult than anticipated."

"You're not him," Barry agrees, almost in a whisper. He looks wide-eyed, definitely shaky - but so strong that he can't help but marvel at it, "but... I can't unpick how I felt about him from how I feel about you, no matter how hard I try."

"It's all a mess," he provides, and keeps smiling at Barry's fervent nod. Still not exactly enthusiastic, but feeling oddly secure in their mutual state of confused sympathy, "resentment, affection, grief... You really do look exactly like my Barry Allen, you know, and that wouldn't be so bad except that you _act_ like him too. You wrinkle your nose in exactly the same way when you think, and so every time that I look at you I think of him."

"I know the feeling," Barry says wryly, and properly meets his eyes for the first time. The odd strand of sympathy remaining a bond between them, "you clear your throat in the same way as him, every single time before you speak. It's a tiny thing, I know, but whenever you open your mouth I expect his words to come out. And when they don't, I'm... Lost."

"You get as enthusiastic as him," he provides, smiling fondly at the memory - a rush of warmth lost long ago, "not as often, understandably, but with just as much joy. He always used to smile like you, when he discovered something."

"You laugh in the same way as him," Barry counters, with a rush of surprised joy across his face like he'd entirely forgotten the pleasant memory under the bitterness, "far more often than he did, actually, but with that same note to it. The secrecy, like he was always letting you in on this private joke between just the two of you."

"You ruffle your hair in the same way that he did. Like it's not quite important enough to stop for, in the morning when you have to get places."

"You get just as absorbed in things as he did. Like everything that you're doing is the most fascinating, most important..." and Barry glances down at his notes with an old fondness, Barry pauses, Barry blinks like something has just occurred to him completely out of the blue, "is this your work on restoring Jay's speed?"

He blinks himself. And, somehow, the shock of coming back to the real world isn't as sharp as it used to be with Barry right here besides him, "I... Indeed, these are all the notes that I have so far. I was thinking of synthesising my blood, and using it to-"

"That won't work," Barry interrupts him quickly. And, before he has the chance to get even the slightest bit offended, leans forward - taps a finger over the most vital equation in his work, "or, more accurately, it will work but it'll only be a temporary measure. It'll boost him, but he'll very quickly come down and be in an even worse condition than he is currently. If you truly want to restore him to full health, with limited side-effects, you need something to act as a binding agent within the compound."

"A sort of contrast, to trigger the permanent reaction," he says slowly, and then smiles quickly. Grabs up a pencil and reaches forward, to replace the solution, "another set of speedster cells, for instance, except perhaps with a different origin point. Such as..."

"Earth 1," Barry finishes for him, and smiles so triumphantly that it's like the sun coming up and cake in the oven and the smell of their bed on a sunny morning back on earth 2 when everybody was alive, "my cells, my blood. If you use _me_ , then we can restore Jay back to full speed for the rest of his life."

 

\--

 

"Team meeting!" He calls brightly, and watches Barry roll his eyes just out of the corner of his vision "...If you have those, of course. I've never been part of a team before. Is that what you generally do, in teams?"

"We do it on a fairly regular basis," Caitlin provides kindly, "yes."

"I mean, usually I'm the one that calls them. But..." Cisco supports her, huffs out a sigh and shakes his head. So far he's still been the most cautious out of the trio of Stein, Caitlin and himself - but when he summons up a smile, it's bright enough to assuage any fears, "it is a thing, we do have them, no worries. What do you want to talk about?"

"Going back to your own universe permanently?" Joe suggests hopefully, giving him a look of such optimism that it's almost a pity to squash it.

"I'm afraid that's not going to happen, detective West," almost. Because, you know, it's not like he's that good at being a nice person. Especially when somebody keeps insisting upon glaring at him in such a manner, "I haven't actually called you here to discuss me at all. I assume that we're all aware that Jay lost his speed while crossing between universes?"

Jay, sitting in the corner, looks confused. Joan, sitting besides him, looks briefly confused and then entirely thrilled.

"We are all aware of that," Stein confirms from the other corner where he's sitting with Ronnie. Looking absolutely fascinated, which is really just his version of being as confused as the rest of them, "our current theory is that he was somehow affected in Zoom whilst in transit, because you experienced no negative effects and neither did Ronnie."

"Zoom can drain you, it is true," Ronnie follows on, giving Stein the kind of fond look that would be obvious from space, "he sapped me of my energy, made me unable to escape. It wouldn't surprise me if he'd done the same with Jay. My energy has largely rebounded, after a week away from Zoom's presence, but it might be different when it involves the draining of superpowers as opposed to ordinary energy. We still know so little about the Speedforce, after all... No offence to all the scientists in this room."

"We- Eobard told me that he's been studying the speedforce for years, and is still no closer to an understanding of how it works," Barry offers quietly from behind him, carries on even as he spins to stare in shock at the unexpected support, "it sometimes seems more like magic than science, so it's understandable that we're all so confused about it. We don't know what affects the Speedforce."

"...But I'm sensing that there's a 'but' here," Iris theorises, into the gap where every single scientist huffs over the blatant flouting of the rules, "I mean, I'm guessing you haven't just called this meeting to rub Jay's face in how mysterious his condition is."

"Jay is my best friend." he declares grandly, and is entirely justified in his approach when Joan giggles and Jay chokes dramatically on air, "so, no, I've decided not to be a dick today. Barry joined me in the lab last night, and we _think_ that we may have theorised a solution that could restore Jay back to full superspeedy health."

"I am _not_ your-" Jay starts hotly, sighs and clambers to his feet. The resignation with which the man treats their entire relationship is, he cannot deny, _adorable_ in the extreme, "nevermind. What does this magical solution involve, and are you sure that it'll actually help?"

"It involves-" he glances at Barry, they both glance at Joe... They quickly glance back at each other, and decide not to go into the details when a man in possession of a gun and a justified grudge is standing right there and glaring, "science, in a variety of forms. Morally ethical science, as Barry can confirm if any of you have any worries. We created a serum, made up of certain chemicals that should trigger the dormant speedforce in your bloodstream."

"I don't need Barry's assurance, I trust you," Jay says honestly, and then actually _winces_. Glances briefly at Joan, who is busy looking extremely smug in the corner "...Is it safe?"

He resists the urge to smirk. Glances at Barry again, slowly, "as safe as it can be."

"Due to the nature of it, we haven't exactly been able to perform many tests," Barry provides for him, with what he wants to think is the ghost of a smile dancing around his lips, "but we've taken every precaution possible, and we have high hopes. And, not to be a drama queen, but it's still a lot safer than being a former speedster when Zoom is around and looking to kill everybody with even the slightest connection to the Speedforce."

"Very true," Cisco agrees, smile fading but interest obviously growing, "so, what's the process then? Does he smell it? Drink it? Stick it in a stew?"

"Have you tasted my cooking?" He asks incredulously, is treated to the brief sight of Barry covering his mouth with a hand like he's barely repressing giggles "...Or Barry's cooking, for that matter? No, we're not going to feed it to him. The process is a simple injection. We insert the needle, wait for a few seconds and then we should know what the results are. Be they delicious speedforce, or deadly poison."

"Wait," Joe starts angrily, rising from his seat as everybody else slowly and quietly absorbs the options, "are we entirely sure about this? I mean, this guy has admitted to being a villain. Can we actually trust him? At _all_?"

"Yes," Jay reaffirms honestly and instantly, finally meets his eyes again. And he mocks Jay endlessly, he never really wants to stop mocking Jay, but the brave determination in his eyes reminds him just how much he respects the man, "it's a risk. But Barry's right, remaining completely depowered in this situation would be a far bigger one for me _and_ all of you. You have the serum here, I assume?"

He nods, glances slowly at Barry who takes the hint and produces the vial carefully from his pocket - holds it out to Jay, like the holy grail and the world's deadliest poison mixed up into one glorious whole.

"There we go," Jay takes it, pops the covering off the needle and takes a deep breath. He glances at Joan, who is obviously holding her breath, and smiles reassuringly. Glances back to him, and straightens his shoulders, "I consent to this fully, and confirm that I am in full possession of my sanity. If anything goes wrong, the responsibility lies with me and not the people who acted in my best interests. I accept the full consequences, whatever they may be."

"Cute," he sniffs, and bares his teeth - uses his usual obnoxiousness to cover the sudden lurch of apprehension in his gut, the quiet fear that is becoming a far too regular companion, "get on with it, Garrick, before Zoom actually bursts in here to slaughter us all."

And Jay takes in a deep breath, and Jay summons another ever so brave smile, and Jay plunges the needle into his arm without even flinching.

...And for a long few moments, nothing happens. The world keeps turning around them, but the room itself remains still. Zoom doesn't burst in with a hellish scream, Jay doesn't instantly explode. They all tense for a long few moments, but slowly ease as the minutes tick on and glance at each other slowly. There's a low buzzing from the computer terminal, a flicker from the lights, a rustle from Iris' dress. Nothing else really seems to happen.

"Is that it?" Ronnie asks eventually, putting into words what they were all thinking. Either subtly, like him, or quite obviously, like Joe's formidable scowl, "somehow I was expecting something a little more... Eventful."

"Science, my dear boy, is rarely as dramatic as we wish it to be," Stein sighs, the voice of weary experience. But his eyes are narrow too, his confusion written just as clearly in the wrinkle of his forehead, "nonetheless, I must agree with you. I am not quite in the mood for dramatics, but I was expecting something with a little more _jazz_."

"Jay?" Joan asks her husband, who has remained silent throughout the process. Is still currently standing there somewhat like a statue, still and frozen and oddly thoughtful, "are you alright? Do you... Feel anything?"

"I-" Jay says slowly, and then tilts his head. Hiccups, for a bizarre moment, and then glances up at the ceiling like he's thinking something through. His fingers twitch, and then his feet. He frowns for a moment more, puzzled as hell... And then suddenly smiles, blindingly bright like everything in the world has just become entirely obvious, "love you, Joan. And I will be _right_ back."

And suddenly, in a burst of red light and fierce speed, he's gone. Leaving Caitlin to clutch at her hair, Joe to look like his eyes are about to pop right out of his head and Joan to laugh so joyfully that it's an honest pleasure to see.

He glances at Barry, who is grinning wider than he has since they first met in this universe. Is suddenly aware, in an unexpected burst of illumination, that he's grinning just as wide, "we should go after him. Make sure that Zoom doesn't eat him, or anything of the sort."

"Sure," Barry nods. And keeps grinning like the brightest sun that he's ever seen, even as they turn and shoot up to full speed.

 

\--

 

Somehow it feels even better this time, to run as a team as opposed to a figure all by himself. Jay shoots ahead, literally sparking with joy, and they're caught up in his wake. A fierce flash of utter joyful madness that he can't quite deny. They dart all across Central City, perfectly in time with each other. Jay shoots up and over buildings with the greatest of ease, Barry phases through passing cars whooping with joy, he allows the lightning to flow over him and runs and runs until the breath burns in his lungs.

He keeps expecting something to go wrong, for Zoom to appear out of nowhere or for Jay's speed to run out or for him to just trip over his own feet and out of the race, but it doesn't. It doesn't, and they just keep running. Barry catches his eye, winks and pushes himself faster. Helpless to deny him, he lunges forwards too and they dart across the city together. A perfect dance utterly in time. One that he never thought to have - not here, not now, not with his Barry.

It feels fun.

It feels... Like he's home. With the wind in his hair, and his best friend in front of him, and Barry racing at his side so carefree and young.

Eventually they shoot their way up a skyscraper - the kind of one that they never thought of in his world - and grind to a halt. The air is crisp, his thighs ache with the exertion, his heart feels so happy that it could burst out of his chest at any moment. He glances to the side, towards Barry, and sees the boy in much the same state - cheeks red and smile so wide on his face that it looks almost painful.

Jay shimmers to a halt in front of them. Tilts his head up to the darkened sky, happily closes his eyes and actually whoops with loudly fierce joy. It occurs to him, in a sudden rush, that he's never seen the man so happy before. Has never seen him actually joyful, as opposed to weighed down with responsibility or the things that he's lost.

"I did this," he whispers wonderingly, largely to himself. And suddenly, embarrassingly, he realises that he's starting to understand the appeal of being one of the good guys - the sudden rush of joy, the burn of heat as somebody experiences happiness just because of him, "I brought his speed back, I _helped_ him."

"Yeah," Barry says almost breathlessly, and continues to look at the side of his face even after he's turned away. Staring at him meaningfully through the night, almost as if he's just realized something completely unexpected and utterly wonderful "...Yeah you did." 

And he smiles, helplessly thrilled as Jay laughs at the sky and Barry continues to beam at his side.


	8. Chapter 8

"Man," Barry pants a few days later, speeding into the control room with his cowl bouncing against his neck and scorch marks vividly black against the red of his suit, "that was _not_ fun."

He's sitting at the computer terminal with Joan, working on tracking their various heroes to give Cisco time to figure out a way to track their far less friendly neighbourhood Zoom. He glances up quickly as Barry comes in - is up on his feet in concern before he can even really think about it, ignoring Joan's barely muffled giggle as he tries to turn it into a smooth and mature act as opposed to a mildly and embarrassingly terrified one "...Mardon again?"

"However did you guess?" Barry sighs, and rubs rather mournfully at the highest mark on his leg. He reflects, for a moment, that it's a good thing Cisco isn't here to mourn the mild cosmetic wrinkling of his outfit, "it feels like I've been chasing him around for _months_. I swear, it was far easier to catch him the last time we did this."

"It's been weeks, actually," Joan kindly corrects, as he attempts to rearrange his face into something resembling sympathy as opposed to a burning desire to punch the troublesome Mark Mardon in the face, "and you really don't have to justify yourself to us. Some villains are better at learning than others. Presumably he picked up some new tricks in the time he was off your radar, and is using them to frustrate you now."

"Yeah," Barry says, and makes a face. He takes losing far better than he's ever been able to, but he's still human and so it still quite obviously rankles, "it's almost as if... Well, this is going to sound weird."

"Weird," he comments thoughtfully, as Joan arches an elegantly dubious eyebrow, "in a universe where we first met when I saved you from a giant walking shark."

"...But it's almost as if he's not actually trying to hurt me."

A long pause. He and Joan slowly glance at each other, and then pointedly glance down to the scorch marks on Barry's legs.

"I said it would sound weird!" Barry defends, and heaves an incredibly heavy sigh. He feels sympathy for the boy, it's not as if he's never had to explain a weird concept to a panel of disbelieving people before, "but... Look, I've faced this guy before. If he wanted he could do far worse to me, _has_ done far worse to me. I honestly don't think that he meant to cause me any proper harm this time, it's more like he was- Testing me?"

"Testing you?" Joan asks skeptically, but also looks sympathetic. She was a nurse, her occupation has basically been that of an idiot herder for years, "I mean, he could be testing you. That is a thing that _could_ potentially happen. But, Barry, what on earth would he be testing you for?"

"I don't know," Barry says. Bites his lip for a second, and then worriedly shakes his head, "I don't know. But I just think..."

" _You_ never told me that you had a madman with a flamethrower in this universe!" Jay interrupts in a sudden burst of speed, coming to a blurring halt in the centre of the room. Not even mildly annoyed, because Jay hasn't been properly annoyed since he was born, a bright grin remains upon his face at the reintroduction to his speed. He wonders, happily this time, if it'll ever fade away, "It's a good thing that I'm restored to my full self, or that would've actually _stung_."

"A man with a flamethrower?" Joan asks in concern, getting to her feet just as quickly as he did a few minutes earlier, "what do you mean, a man with a flamethrower?"

"...Heat Wave?" Barry guesses, looking somewhat perplexed, and frowns even deeper when Jay thinks for a second and then gives a cautious nod, "the guy who was acting suspiciously, who was skulking quietly around various banks, was _Heat Wave_?"

"Well," Jay says carefully, inevitably calming down after his initial burst of speed. Jay doesn't really hold grudges, it's one of his more endearing traits and most certainly one of his most useful, "he wasn't so quiet when I confronted him, as you can see by the arm of my suit, but... Yes. He was the one who was quietly skulking around."

"You don't have a suit, Jay, you have a dress jacket," he quite firmly corrects, and ignores Jay's huff of outrage to glance over at the still frowning Barry, "you seem troubled by this, Barry. Is anything wrong?"

"That... That isn't Heat Wave's, Mick Rory's, usual MO," Barry provides, forehead still completely wrinkled in confusion. His Barry was never this thoughtful, he wonders if it would've looked much the same on him, "you can ask anybody, if you want, but he's never been subtle before. He likes setting fire to things, making a lot of noise and then exiting in an explosion if at all possible. He's never really progressed beyond that."

"I trust your assessment of him," he says simply, and is treated to the complete surprise of a brief smile flashing across Barry's face - an almost flattered thing, that he never really expected to see in this universe and on that face "...I have to wonder why he's changed. Such out of character behaviour usually means-"

"I thought you said," Ronnie interrupts unintentionally, striding into the room with gold flakes scattered up one side of his body and Martin Stein hovering anxiously at his side like a mother hen, "that Lisa Snart didn't really _believe_ in hiding."

"She never has before," Stein sniffs, also half covered in gold flecks and looking almost offended at the deviation from form. Which, again, he can understand - the universe was a hell of a lot simpler when everything behaved like it should, "her entire existence is basically a manifesto against such a thing, I have no idea what... Oh, have all of our missions unexpectedly ended in failure?"

"Mark Mardon is acting out of character," Barry summarizes slowly, and glances at him like he's the perfect bouncing board, "Mick Rory is acting out of character, Lisa Snart is acting out of character... What the hell is going on?"

"I don't know," he can only shrug, and slowly return to his seat. Steeple his fingers carefully in front of his face, and start to think things through, "but whatever it is, it's bound to be interesting."

 

\--

 

He wakes up the next morning to a rapid fire knock on his door, rolls off the bed and is somewhat pleased when he lands upon his feet as opposed to flat on his face. He's not exactly a messy man, but the state of his room after a few weeks of inhabitance is somewhat less than welcoming to a sudden faceplant. It's still tiny, still largely an afterthought, but he's started to try to fill it with details of life - a different bedspread, one or two pictures on the wall of bands he barely knows on this earth, scientific equipment piled high on every possible surface. It's still missing something, a certain presence shaped like the boy he loved, but-

...Well, home is probably a word too sentimental for it. It's a place to sleep, and that's really good enough for him for now.

He stands up properly, from the proud crouch that he landed in, and stretches. Ambles slowly towards the door, still in his boxers. From the speed of the knock, and the estimated time of day, it's probably Jay come to fetch him for some grand purpose or little purpose or chat about how they're best friends now. Diverting enough, probably inconsequential. He throws open the door, opens his mouth with sarcasm already sharpened...

And it's not Jay.

It's Barry, looking just like the Barry he tumbled down into a soft mattress so many times, standing on the other side of the door. Barry, looking just like the Barry whose gasps he knew so very intimately, staring at him in his boxers. Barry, the last person he saw naked, turning steadily redder by the moment.

 _Ah_.

"Barry," he says, narrowly stopping it from being a quite undignified splutter, and hesitates for only a quarter of a second before darting quickly away. Returning only when he's fully dressed, with several layers thrown firmly on top, "my sincere apologies, I was not... Well, there's really no way to make that sound good. What can I do for you?"

"Uh-" Barry mutters, licks his lips for a moment like he's thinking - probably about what a terrible person he apparently is in all universes - before straightening his shoulders and glancing up again, "that's... That's fine. Great. Fine. I just came to get you because, uh, there's been a development."

"A development?" He asks, and slides his way through his door. Shuts it quickly behind him, in a probably entirely obvious attempt to move past the awkwardness as quickly as possible, "in the troublesome events from yesterday, I assume. What's happened? Has Gorilla Grodd returned and staged a musical number in the centre of the city?"

"Of course you've looked up the giant gorilla," Barry huffs, but not with any actual annoyance. It's probably just a trick of the light, but for a moment he thinks he sees a flash of amusement in those lovely eyes before they snap firmly back to business, "no, but Mark Mardon and Mick Rory _are_ in the centre of the city and there are several reports to suggest that Lisa Snart is there too. Their intention appears to be to cause as much chaos as possible."

"Of course it is. Chaos causing is basically supervillain 101," he chuckles, and immediately reins in his amusement when he sees Barry's eyebrows go up at his side "...Which is, of course, not an appropriate observation in this situation. I assume you want me to go show my face, and distract them for long enough for you and your assorted heroes to capture them?"

"...You've never met any of them properly, so no," Barry informs him, and gives him the kind of odd look that suggests he's missing something rather obvious, "that wouldn't really be useful at all, unless you actually want a drastic haircut by means of flamethrower."

"I'm not Jay, I have better things to do with my time than preen over my vanity," he sniffs, but half-heartedly. Really he's too devoted to thinking over what he's missing, to thinking over what's obvious to Barry, to be too sarcastic about even Jay "...Then I assume you want me to wait in the shadows, to lurk until you can drive the three of them towards me to be knocked out and securely imprisoned?"

"Uh, no," Barry repeats, and keeps looking at him oddly. Like it really is obvious, on the level of the sun coming up in the morning or the sky being a wonderfully filtered shade of blue, "have you been to the centre of this Central City? There are no shadows, there's just a nice park and a lot of trees."

"I was rather distracted by the giant land shark at the time," he frowns, and becomes vividly aware that he's always going to be a little surprised by the brief quirk of this Barry's mouth as if he's trying to fight down a smile. The only way to deal with it, really, is to consider it just a trick of his mind and move on with his confusion - it's the only thing that really makes that much sense, "then what...?"

"I'll put you out of your misery, before we spend all day down here with you guessing increasingly ridiculous things," Barry says wryly, moves on before he can do more than blink in pleased shock at the boy's daring, "we don't want you to use your looks, or lurk in the shadows like a creeper, or any other things that your imagination can apparently come up with at short notice. This is a big occurrence, it's probably going to need all four of us to put it down and keep the civilians involved out of harm."

"Oh," he blinks, can't quite stop himself from doing so no matter how dramatic it may be, "you want me to..."

"Suit up," Barry smiles, actually reaches out to clap him on the shoulder - a press of warmth that he knows he shouldn't read anything into, but that he feels glowing in every part of him nonetheless, "it's time to go be heroes, as best we can."

 

\--

 

Chaos 101, it’s one of the first things you learn as a supervillain. If the heroes are too busy trying to impose order, too busy staring at the mess around them with utterly baffled eyes, then they hardly have the time to catch you and impose their brand of order upon you. It’s pretty basic, he still remembers it fondly as they come to a blurring halt just outside the main square.

“You're here,” Jay, as endearingly dedicated to pointing out the obvious as ever, calls out. Waves them over to where he’s crouching behind a rather sturdy looking car, “Firestorm is watching them from above. They’re as covered as they can be, at present moment.”

“Good,” Barry nods, as he restrains the quite passionate urge to make a sarcastic comment. It’s in his blood, as intrinsic a part of him as his need to breathe, “have they changed their MO at all?”

“Not that I’ve seen,” Jay shrugs, looks mildly disapproving. Bless him, he’s probably as offended by this act of civil disobedience as he was back on earth 2 when they were still actually in opposition to each other, “Rory, Heat Wave, keeps setting fire to things, and Mardon, Weather Wizard, keeps obscuring the entire scene with mist. Chaos in its most annoying form.”

“I find that hard to believe, considering how long we’ve known each other,” he purrs, and watches Jay’s eyes widen as he looks at him – finally acknowledges the yellow suit, the tight leather that he hasn’t worn since he got to this world, “do they seem to want anything?”

“...No,” Jay offers, and his forehead wrinkles as he seems to finally notice the oddness of the situation.

“I’ll try to talk them out of it, and learn what the hell they’re up to,” Barry interrupts, before he can drive home his advantage and point out just how odd the lack of motivation is, “Firestorm can provide support from the air, while you two get any civilians out of the way before they can get hurt. Does that all sound good to you?”

“Wait,” he asks, and can’t quite restrain a blink, “you’re going to save the day by talking these two career criminals into being nice people?”

“Hey, it’s worked before,” Barry shrugs, smiles in his usual blindingly distracting way, steps put before he can do more than blink and vainly try to calm the sudden pounding of his heart, “Rory! Mardon! Can we at least _talk_ about this?”

“It’s the Flash!” Rory, the one in possession of a flamethrower, cheers. An actual, honest to god grin on his face as Jay reaches out to grab his arm and urge him into a run, “look, Mardon, the Flash is here!”

“I do have eyes, Rory, so I am aware,” Mardon, the one in possession of weather powers and a quite impressive beard, drawls. He sees the brief flash of a smile, as he darts by to heft a little old lady under his arm and away from the danger “...You have to be aware that we’re not going to stop this just because you bat your eyelashes at us prettily, Flash. That’s not how this works.”

“I’m _not_ -“ Barry starts in frustration, huffs as he gathers up a woman and her young child and also spirits them to a street corner several blocks distant “...I’m just saying that there’s no need for this, you know? We can just talk this out, like calm and reasonable adults.”

“Calm and reasonable adults?” Rory asks incredulously, with the kind of disbelieving expression that really deserves to be framed.

“Interesting,” Mardon interrupts him, looking more amused than deeply offended. His words blur as he darts forwards again, this time to snatch up an overly curious looking teenager, but he still can appreciate the general atmosphere of amused scorn “...But, alas, we have to decline the urge to take advice from the leather-clad posterboy of immature decisions. Prepare to feel the thunder, Flash.”

“Not if I have anything to say about it,” A voice booms from the heavens. And, as he has to take a pause to shake his head at the melodrama of it, Firestorm descends – wreathed in flame, and looking as sternly wrathful as ever, “Stop this _now_.”

And Rory’s eyes, already shining with the sheer joy of getting to set fire to things, immediately go bigger than his body, “why, _hello_ gorgeous.”

“Mick, remember what Lisa said. Remember the _plan_ ,” Mark hisses incredulously, for all the world like his partner falling instantly in love with a fire god wasn’t part of this plan, and raises his lightning wreathed hands sharply, “it was nice knowing you, Flash, now brace yourself and prepare to fry!”

...Wait.

This whole thing hasn’t made any sense since they got here, but suddenly it snaps into high definition. There’s a pointed gap in the proceedings, a presence that should be there but that simply isn’t. There’s something that they’re missing, something embarrassingly obvious and just out of reach. Because chaos 101 is the first class that supervillains take, yes...

But it’s only the lead in, to distraction 102.

He darts forwards, before Mardon can properly lunge. Grabs Barry, and yanks him behind the nearest tree as lightning explodes against the ground behind them. Barry blinks up at him in confusion, clearly shocked by the sudden and unexpected intervention, “uh, thanks for the save? Not that I really needed it, but...”

“Lisa Snart is the ringleader of this entire operation, but she’s not here,” he points out grimly. And watches as Barry’s confusion deepens, then clears, then transforms into a kind of horrified realisation that is probably the least reassuring thing in the world, “where is she?”

“...Her brother, Leonard Snart, is locked up in Iron Heights,” Barry whispers, staring into his eyes with that horror still spreading and spreading across his face, “ _damn_ -“

He doesn’t pause, to hear the rest of the sentence. Before Barry can finish he’s already gone, leaving a trail of yellow and a confused Mark Mardon and a lovestruck Mick Rory still staring helplessly up at the puzzled Firestorm.

 

\--

 

He knows where Iron Heights is, because Joe has pointed it out to him several times in increasingly unsubtle ways. He doesn’t know what he expects to gain, from running there at top speed, but he hopes for at least something. The drive of a discovery, the warm glow of figuring a tangled confusion out, is enough to drive him onwards with very little thought involved.

When he gets there, grinding to a halt in a way that would shred his calves if it wasn’t for the protection of the suit, it’s exactly as he expected. The prison gates are thrown open, the guards are scattered in disarray and if he peers not too far into the distance he can see gold coated figures standing frozen in place. It’s probably bad, to feel so smug about that, but... Well, he’s never claimed to be a nice guy. Never even claimed to be a good guy, not really.

“Where is she?” He asks the nearest guard, a wide eyed man still panting against the wall, “who did she take? Which direction did they go in?”

But the guard doesn’t answer, the guard only shrinks back against the wall and continues with his wide-eyed shaking. He slowly becomes aware that they aren’t so much terrified of Lisa Snart’s lingering presence, as they are of him and his yellow suit. Several people are cowering away like the man in front of him, all of the them are tense and a few of them even have hands already on their guns. The atmosphere is something akin to a powderkeg, just waiting to go off with him right in the centre of it. He tenses-

And, before a single shot can be fired or a single superpower put to use, Barry grinds to a halt in front of him. Throws up his hands and fixes everybody with a determined glance, “don’t shoot, he’s with me!”

The tension in the air quickly fades to confusion. The one woman who had managed to get her gun up lowers it with a frown, the man in front of him slowly stops shuddering and everybody else slowly moves from tense glares to puzzled glances.

“You can trust him,” Barry repeats deliberately, and lowers his hands as he barely manages to contain his shock at those words. Turns to the fastest cop, with that charming determination still lingering in his eyes, “now, answer our questions. Where is Lisa Snart? Who did she take with her? Which direction did they go in?”

“We don’t know where she is,” the cop answers professionally, sliding her gun back into its holster with a wary glance in his direction, “she arrived mid shift change, shot several guards with her gun and charged straight into the high security section. She broke three prisoners – Leonard Snart, Hartley Rathaway and Axel Walker – out of their cells and together they made their way back out again. They scattered in different directions when they got out of the prison proper. We couldn’t follow them, she... She shot our warden in the leg, we’re not sure if he’s going to make it.”

He glances slowly at Barry, but doesn’t need to see the expression on the boy’s face to know the seriousness of the situation. They don’t have the time to get the warden to the hospital, track down all of the escaped Rogues and bring them in safely. It’d be like finding a needle in a haystack, while bleeding out from a gut wound and being shot at by various mobsters. It’s a farcical situation at best.

...But Barry Allen trusts him.

And so, even as the boy’s head drops in resignation and he makes the expected decision to dart into the prison and save the warden, there’s still some warmth lingering deep within his gut.

 

\--

 

“Okay,” Cisco says later, clapping his hands in an attempt at enthusiasm that falls about as flat as it is possible for such an attempt to fall, “so perhaps it wasn’t our most successful mission.”

“That’s one way of putting it,” Joe sniffs sourly, fixing him and only him with an accusing glare. Barry is sitting at his side with an expression like a kicked puppy, Jay is having salve rubbed on his burns by Joan, Ronnie is looking oddly dreamy besides the thoughtful Stein – but apparently he’s the only one that deserves such a look, “a bloody shambles, would be another.”

“They all escaped,” Barry summarises glumly, like the criticism was directed in his direction and not towards the only person wearing yellow leather in the room, “every single one of them. Lisa broke her brother and two others out of jail, and they managed to cover their tracks well enough that we couldn’t pick up their trail. And, in the confusion, Rory and Mardon managed to get away too. And now they’re all out, and probably working together.”

“It seems likely,” he sighs, and meets Joe’s glare with a level look of his own. He’ll never quite be able to shake his eye for an eye mentality, no matter what side he’s on, “I followed their tracks for as long as I could while Barry took the warden to the hospital, but... Well, they were good at covering them. It seems like this entire occurrence was thoroughly planned.”

“I thought you also said,” Ronnie briefly emerges from that odd dreaminess, glances at Stein without much accusation but with a lot of curiosity, “that Lisa Snart also wasn’t one for detailed plans, or one in possession of any unexpectedly charming friends.”

“It appears that I was also wrong on those two points,” Stein sighs, and absent-mindedly lays a hand over one of Ronnie’s, “and it appears that we have all underestimated Ms Snart a little too often.”

“That,” Joe theorizes angrily, as he briefly blinks over the ‘charming friend’ part – the lovestruck idiot in charge of a flamethrower? – and decides to file it away for a time when Barry isn’t looking quite so dejected at his side, “or she has an inside man, one who could quickly warn her and aid in her speedy getaway.”

A long pause, as everybody else absorbs this and he sighs, and then...

“Hey,” Jay protests with surprising anger in his voice, clambering to his feet as Joan glares by his side, “Eobard helped us a lot. Without him we wouldn’t have known that there was a prison break at all, and a hell of a lot more people could’ve been injured.”

“Sure,” Joe says, still glaring at him and only him like he’s a fixed point at which to aim all his loathing. He can fault the man on many details, but his forensic focus is most certainly not one of them, “but would any people have been injured at all if she hadn’t been tipped off by a certain person standing in this room right now?”

“You’re speaking as if this is a certainty as opposed to an absurdity,” Stein speaks up, looking surprisingly annoyed on his behalf, “I would’ve expected better from you, detective West.”

“Better than seeing what’s right in front of my eyes?” Joe scowls, forgets his vague attempts as subtlety and settles for gesturing right at him like he’s a step away from growing an evil goatee and cackling, “better than trusting my gut instinct? Better than _knowing_ that a snake who’s betrayed us before is going to betray us again?”

“Hey!” Cisco protests, face wrinkled in honest outrage. Like he actually cares, about the insults being slung in his direction. Like he actually feels, for a man with the same face as the one who fucked him over, “this particular snake has betrayed absolutely nobody, cut him some slack!”

“But you admit that he’s a snake?” Joe springs, like it’s an actual triumph and not just a slip of the tongue, “a traitorous, slimy snake?”

“That’s not-“

“That’s not what he meant, and you know it,” Joan snaps, sounding furious in a way that he’s never heard from her before. When he glances over, briefly taking his eyes off Joe, her fists are balled and she’s actually shaking with the force of her rage, “I don’t know what issue you had with the other Eobard Thawne, because I wasn’t there, but you can’t keep blaming this Eobard for it. He wasn’t there either. Blaming him for the actions of his doppelganger would be like me blaming Iris for you being a stubborn jerk.”

“Of course you’d take his side,” Joe mutters, sending a glare in his direction again like that’s entirely his fault too, “and it’s a bit more complicated than that, Mrs Garrick, because he-“

“Of course she’s taking his side, because we’re all taking his side,” Ronnie interrupts, finally shattering through his fascinated dreaminess to offer up a most heartfelt glare, “you’re out of line, Joe. This man helped to save me from Zoom, gave Jay his speed back, figured out what was going on and saved a man’s life just today. You can’t treat him like a common criminal, just because you remember what his other self did.”

“But he’s just like his other self. He looks exactly like him, he _acts_ exactly like him!” Joe protests, put suddenly on the defensive. It’s like he’s just noticed, how all the room is glaring at him with a less than convinced light in their eyes, “you can’t tell me that none of the rest of you have noticed it. I’m tired of him coming in here, acting like he can be redeemed, looking at Barry like he’s a piece of meat-“

“Joe!” And Barry finally looks up from his self pitying huddle, glares almost like he’s defending him out of an actual personal feeling as opposed to because it’s just what a person like him does, “stop it. Just because he looks like the man who did all those things, doesn’t mean that he is. He saved Ronnie’s life, he helped Jay when everybody else thought that all hope was lost, he’s the main reason why warden Wolfe survived today. If I can accept that, you should be able to too.”

“...Barry,” Joe says slowly, finally seeming to falter in the face of his son’s rage, “I just think that-“

“You’re many things, Detective West, but I never thought you were selfish,” he finally speaks, rises to his feet and heads for the door. Just to remove himself from the situation, the urge to look at Barry’s face and imagine an emotion that simply isn’t there, “if anybody needs me I’ll be in my lab. Somebody might as well work out a way to track them, after all.”


	9. Chapter 9

He glances up several hours later to a slightly wary knock at the door, finds himself pleased to see Iris standing in the doorway and smiling at him. He’s not sure if he could’ve coped with any of the other likely options, Jay would’ve been angry enough to be a distraction and Joe would’ve been looking for a fight. He far prefers the calm clarity of Iris West, “Ms West! Where have you been all day?”

“Shows how much attention you all pay,” Iris snorts, but strolls into the room anyway – takes her seat at his elbow in her usual considered manner, “Caitlin had some ideas about Zoom’s biology, and I came along to help her research them.”

“Interesting,” he offers, and means it honestly. If running very fast won’t fix their problems, then maybe science will, “any progress?”

“Not as much as we would’ve liked,” Iris sighs, and makes a face that says pretty much everything in vivid detail. Bless, yet another one hooked on the fallacies and frustrations of science, “the fact of the matter is that we can theorize all we want, but as long as we don’t have a sample of Zoom’s DNA we’re kind of stuck. What about you, what have your frustrations been today?”

“With Zoom’s DNA?” He asks wryly, has to pause as Iris arches an eyebrow at him. She’s remarkably good at looking stern, it’s a miracle that she hasn’t taken over the world yet “...You heard about the business with the Rogues.”

“Joan caught us up on it in great detail, the moment we walked through the door,” Iris shrugs, as if to point out that she’s also an investigative reporter so would of course be aware of a prison breakout right in the centre of her city, “I also heard about the argument that you had with my dad. Or, more accurately, the argument that he had with you.”

A long pause. He lays down the device that he was fiddling with, a tracker designed to stick to liquid gold, and bows his head.

“You did nothing wrong, in either case,” but Iris is kind, and Iris is stubborn, and Iris is apparently dedicated to surprising him every single time, “from what Joan said, you were the one that figured out what Lisa Snart was up to and so saved a man’s life. And also from what Joan said, you were remarkably restrained when my dad was going at you. And that... Is still a skill that I have yet to master.”

“I was out of line,” he says slowly, bracing his hands firmly against the worktable and staring into space, “I said several things that I should not have said, and I was rude for no real reason.”

“You were not out of line. I mean, you weren’t exactly right – but the only person who was actually out of line was my dad,” Iris shrugs again, like it’s simple. Actually reaches out to lay a grounding hand upon his arm, “come on, Eobard. You’re many things, but I never thought you were one of those people addicted to taking the entire weight of the world on their shoulders.”

“I exist to surprise, Ms West,” he smirks, gives a wry little bow as she shakes her head over him “...What do you mean about me not being exactly right?”

“We’ve talked about this before,” Iris chuckles, shakes her head almost fondly. As if she’s surprised, that not all people have her frankly creepily forensic level of memory, “my dad isn’t selfish, even though he may sometimes really seem like it. He’s stubborn, he holds grudges, he can be a real pain sometimes... But he does it all out of selflessness, not selfishness.”

“Because he cares about people so very much. More specifically, he cares about you and Barry so very much,” he says slowly, the remnants of that weeks-ago conversation slowly flooding back to him. Only slightly hindered by everything else that has gone on in the time in between, “and that’s why he’s never going to like me, because my doppelganger hurt you both so very much and never made any apologies for his actions.”

“...You are such a drama queen,” Iris informs him, with a fond roll of her eyes, “look, he’s going to have to start liking you someday. You’re here to stay, you’re not a murderous dick and literally everybody else here has accepted you. If I can get over my hang-ups and be your friend, then my dad can. If _Barry_ can get over his hang-ups and accept you, then my dad most certainly can.”

“An interesting theory, Ms West,” he answers, mind entirely caught on something else “...Barry accepts me?”

“I am surrounded by ridiculously dramatic idiots,” Iris says flatly, with a certain twinkle in her eyes that tells him that she not only doesn’t mind but is actually considering filming it and selling the rights to television, “look, you can ask him yourself if you want. But that’s not my point. My point is that you have a place here, Eobard, and no amount of sulking from my dad is going to change that.”

“...Thank you, Ms West,” he allows, oddly touched again.

“Now, Barry is on the roof,” Iris only rolls her eyes at him again. Fondly, like she would with a friend, “go rub your emotions all over him instead, before I take it all back.”

 

\--

 

He can understand why Barry likes the view from the top of Star Labs. From here the entire city is spread out before them like a gift, pinpricks of shining light gathering together to make one glorious picture. Down there people live. Down there people struggle and triumph and toil and laugh and _exist_ , every moment a hard won fight for survival. It's glorious.

Barry is sitting on the very top of the structure, legs dangling off the roof and eyes fixed on some point in the distance. He starts a little, when he registers his presence, but doesn't immediately glare - progress, he supposes, and progress that he'll certainly take.

"Good evening, Mr- Barry," he smiles. And, when he doesn't receive a glare for that either, settles slowly down at his side "...You did well today."

"Well," Barry snorts, but not exactly at him. His anger seems directed inwards, a storm of blame that he understands far better than he'd like, "if by well you mean that I let six criminals escape, got several friends injured and allowed Joe to treat you like shit... Then yeah, today was absolutely amazing."

"It wasn't all bad," he contradicts gently, quickly stifles the urge to reach out and touch Barry's soft skin, "you saved a man's life today. Without you, Warden Wolfe would've died of his injuries and Iron Heights would've been in an even worse state."

"Yeah, sure," Barry snorts, bitterly shakes his head, "but you forget that I only carried him. Without _you_ he would've definitely died, and we would've been left running around in circles for far longer. I wasn't exactly the driving force there, is what I'm saying, I was just the taxi service."

"That's not true," he says, perhaps a little harsher than intended. Barry's eyes shoot up to him, thought writ clear in them, "you have to stop blaming yourself for every failure and excusing yourself from every triumph, Barry, it's not a healthy way to live."

Barry stares at him incredulously for a second, shakes his head and gives another snort, "you're one to talk."

"Am I?" He asks, disbelieving. Pauses, at Barry's heartfelt nod, and thinks back over the past few weeks "...Hm, I suppose I am. How peculiar, I never expected my control freak tendencies to take this particular turn. Would it be possible for me to convince you to do as I say and not as I do?"

"Unlikely," Barry provides with a wry twist of his mouth. But seems to ease a little, in the face of his realization, "Joe's been trying to pull that trick for years, it's never once worked."

"How unexpected, Barry Allen being stubborn," he chuckles, just to watch Barry's expression brighten that little further. It's a little like the sun coming up, even better for all the clouds that it's had to fight its way through "...You really shouldn't blame yourself, you know. Sometimes the universe just acts against you, and there's nothing anybody can do about it."

"I suppose," Barry sighs, but at least looks a little more inclined to listen now. Progress, even if it is pulled out in drips and drabs, "just as long as you know that you really shouldn't blame yourself either."

He hesitates for a second, takes refuge in staring over the distant light of the city. It doesn't work very well, the warmth of Barry besides him is far more appealing "...My situation is a little different from yours, mr Allen. I've spent my entire lifetime, _multiple_ lifetimes if you count this place, avoiding blame. It's probably a good thing, that I'm finally taking it now."

"You can't just rocket between the two extremes," Barry argues, fixes him with a firm look when he makes the mistake of briefly glancing back, " _that's_ not healthy. Take blame for the things that you actually did, not for everything wrong in the universe."

"Hm," he says, and attempts to bow his head briefly - fails, because he can't quite bring himself to glance away from Barry Allen, "I feel that we should both take our own advice a little more often."

"...Perhaps," Barry laughs, so brightly that it's hypnotizing, "but where would the fun be in that?"

"Indeed," he chuckles. And for a moment, a glorious moment that he never really thought to have again, they laugh together - a shot of brightness for the dark, like sunshine right to his veins "...Joe still blames me for everything, though."

"You cannot base your entire worldview around Joe," Barry says sternly, so unexpectedly that he finds himself blinking like a fool for a long few unrestrained moments, "Joe is... Joe. He's the best dad in the world, sure, but that doesn't mean that he's the ultimate authority on things. _Especially_ when it comes to his kids. He'll come around eventually, I swear, but even if he doesn't you shouldn't worry about it."

"Shouldn't I?" He asks curiously. Still stupidly stunned, staring at Barry's face like he's never seen something so perfect before.

"His negative opinion of you shouldn't define your opinion of yourself," Barry shrugs, like the point is entirely obvious. His eyes watch the lift of Barry's shoulders, like they're entirely beautiful, "granted, that also means that our positive opinions of you shouldn't define your opinion of yourself. But..."

" _Our_ positive opinions?" He asks quietly, is only aware that the words have left his lips when Barry pauses to stare at him, "I mean, you don't have to-"

"...Our," Barry interrupts slowly. Hesitates for a second, before giving a slow and determined nod, "mine included, just to be clear."

"Oh," he says. And he could say more, he could burst into those sonnets that Barry so deserves and sing at the top of his lungs and smile like an utter fool for the rest of his life, but for now he just settles for that and the hope that it'll get all the emotion surging within him across as well as it can "...Do you intend to stay out here all night, Barry? I'm aware that it's the perfect brooding spot, but you might feel better once you're in the warm with your friends."

"As opposed to-?" Barry starts playfully, seems to think better of it halfway through and shakes his head. But the smile remains there, lingering in a way that causes his heart - as embarrassingly cliche as it is - to sing, "you go ahead, I'll follow as soon as I can. I just need a few more minutes, to... Catch my breath."

He smiles himself. Nods, and clambers up to his feet. Progress, slow and steady and as satisfying as anything he's ever experienced.

 

\--

 

He strolls back into the control room, warmth still glowing in his chest, to find Caitlin and Cisco huddled over the computer console. Joe sits in the corner, still scowling into the distance. With the glow of Barry’s approval around him he attempts a cautious nod, but is greeted with only a grunt and a quick glance away.

...Oh well, you can’t win every battle. And with Barry’s regard still draped over him, he doesn’t particularly care if he does. He strolls cheerfully over to the two who do actually like him, nods brightly and receives friendly glances in return, “Doctor Snow! I heard you were researching Zoom’s biology.”

“You heard correctly, Doctor Thawne,” Caitlin answers playfully, and then immediately sighs. A pity, he far prefers being playful to wallowing in the apparent terribleness of this universe, “but, unfortunately, we haven’t been that successful. As it stands now we know about as much as we did yesterday. Which is not that much.”

“He’s human shaped, in possession of the speedforce and likes murdering people and terrorising innocents,” he muses, and can’t quite help a smile as Cisco gives a thumbs up and Caitlin gives a reluctant shrug, “which is, to try positivity for once, definitely something. Have you asked Ronnie for further details? Little tips? Fun and terrifying stories from the wonderful world you refer to, somewhat inaccurately, as Earth 2?”

Caitlin and Cisco glance at each other for a long moment, and then Cisco snorts and Caitlin smiles, “Ronnie thought that he was male, judging from his voice patterns. He also thought that he might actually be a human, as opposed to the speedforce wearing a person suit.”

“His words and not yours I presume, Doctor Snow,” he purrs easily, receives a little laugh in reply and reflects upon how nice it feels to have actual friends as opposed to a lukewarm cup of coffee and several quietly terrified scientists, “and those are two more things we know, combining to make a somewhat detailed picture. We know that Zoom is probably male and probably human. We know that he’s in possession of the speedforce, and that his hobbies include murdering speedsters and terrorising literally everybody that he comes across. And because we know his hobbies, we also know his aims.”

“Positives all around,” Joe finally contributes sourly from the side, still refusing to even glance in his general direction, “then.”

“...Perhaps I was being a little overly negative,” Caitlin admits, papering over Joe’s obvious hostility with a quick motion that he’s both amused and impressed by, “but it’s still so frustrating. I wish we had just a little more to go on, a few more clues, just a bit of biological tissue so I could run some actual tests as opposed to working on guesswork alone.”

“As much as Caitlin sounds like the bad guy in a horror movie, I agree with her,” Cisco sighs, only smirks when Caitlin pokes him in the side with the point of her elbow, “this whole thing would be a hell of a lot easier if we just had a tiny bit more information. Just a speck, just a smidgen.”

“Just a crumb?” He asks wryly, and is answered by Cisco screwing up his face in reluctant reply and Caitlin smiling at him ever so brightly, “I must admit, I do know how you feel. We know some things about Zoom, but nowhere near enough to paint a full picture. We know details, but none of those details add up to anything substantial. If we knew just a little more, if we could study him in just slightly greater detail...”

“So yet again, you put us all in danger to further your crazy plans,” Joe snaps, interrupting Cisco and Caitlin’s understanding nods. As he blinks, more for effect than out of any need to process, the man rises angrily to his feet and strides for the door with a vibrating rage that is at the very least impressive, “I’m going for some air, I’ll be back when you’ve stopped courting contact with yet more murderous madmen.”

“Joe-!” Cisco starts in frustration as Caitlin’s lips purse together, but he holds up a hand to halt them both and spins on his heel to follow. He might as well actually try to talk to the man, especially now with the warmth of Barry still wrapping securely around him and making him feel something ever so close to invincible.

 

\--

 

When you're in possession of Superspeed, catching up to people is rarely an issue. He makes sure to make a lot of noise as he goes, bounces to a halt a few steps behind Joe and is pleased when the man only shoots a stiff glare at him as opposed to outright drawing his gun. Progress. Drips and drabs, but still progress.

"Detective West!" He tries for a cheerful tone. Receives only a continued scowl in reply, and vows to moderate it to something a little less chirpily offensive, "I must admit, I can understand your antipathy on the subject of Zoom. Ignoring him won't make him go away, however."

"I am aware of that universal truth, Thawne," Joe snaps, and fixes him with a glare thoroughly impressive in its intensity. If there's anything he can appreciate, it's borderline obsessive focus on a certain thing, "after all, I've been trying to ignore you since you got here and you still haven't popped out of existence."

"Indeed! I am still, alas, fully solid and standing in front of you," he purrs playfully, catches himself only as Joe's eyes narrow and Joe's expression grows tight "...I feel that we've got off on rather the wrong foot, Detective West."

"Really? Because I feel like we've got off on exactly the right foot," Joe grunts. Gets an expression for a moment like he knows that makes no sense, and then firms his shoulders and scowls like he's perfectly prepared to roll with it.

Again, that good old stubborn obsession - fixed upon one thing like a never moving mark. He can't get offended by it, even if it is very much in his way - he can only admire something that he sees reflected in his own character, "I can understand your viewpoint on me. Can even admire it, in some ways."

"That's nice for you."

"If I was in your shoes, if a different version of somebody who had hurt me so much had come into my universe expecting my patronage..." He shrugs, attempts a slightly less hyperactive smile. It makes little difference. He's starting to think that he could sculpt his face to look like the Mona Lisa herself, and still get indifference verging on hostility from Joe, "well, I would not be inclined to treat them with kindness. I would, in fact, deliberately make life as difficult as possible for them."

Joe seems to, at the very least, consider this for a second - but soon returns to staring flatly. A fearsome foe indeed.

"But I assure you, detective West" ...Probably best not to think of the man as a foe, though. He's Iris' father, he's Barry's adoptive father. If anything, he should be seeking his approval even more actively, "despite my doppelganger's actions, I wish no harm to either of your children and would not lay a finger on them out of malice or-"

He's not expecting to be interrupted by a bitter, mocking laugh. To be perfectly honest, he didn't think that Joe had it in him. He pauses for a second, trying to rethink his strategy, and is even more surprised when the smile is followed up by a wry shake of the head, "you thought that _that_ was what I meant when I said that you looked at Barry like a piece of meat. You thought that _that_ was why I disliked you."

"...Well, yes," he says, and tries to look as in control as possible. Hard, when his brain is still desperately scrambling to work out what's going on, but doable, "but apparently that's not the problem here?"

"No. Well, I mean, it still kind of is because the other version of you was an evil fucker... But no," Joe fixes him with a glare. A glare that he's steadily starting to become less impressed by, considering how it seems to be heralding his doom, "my main problem with you isn't that you look at Barry like a piece of meat you want to kill, but like a piece of meat you want to parade around on your arm."

He blinks. Attempts, as best he can, to act like he hasn't just been struck to the core, "I'm not sure that I know what you mean, Detective-"

"You look at Barry like you're in love with him," Joe summarizes sharply, and stares at him like he hasn't just put a fist right into his stomach and pushed in until only pain remains, "like you want to marry him, take him to suburbia and reduce him to some sort of trophy. And if you can't see why I'd have a problem with that, then maybe you're even further gone than I thought."

It's hard to knock him speechless, but that just about manages it. It's like a fist in his stomach, a knife in his throat, a shock to his nervous system and all other sorts of unpleasant things that frequently result in death. He gulps air for a second, aware that he's gone pale. Every moment of silence dooms him further, Joe's eyebrows climbing higher and higher like every dark suspicion of his has been confirmed in lurid detail "...I- I don't-"

The scream rends the air between them, so suddenly that he can't even be relieved by it. He spins on his heel towards the sound, Joe's hand actually goes to his gun. A long moment of hesitation stretches between them...

"Cisco," Joe provides, glancing in his direction without hostility for possibly the first time since they met. Glass shatters, an angry splinter of sound, and the gun actually comes out in one sharp pull that most definitely means business.

"I'm on it," he says immediately, understanding the full weight of it, and is a blur of speed before Joe can even blink. Whatever it is, it has to be better than this conversation.

 

\--

 

The situation is not better than the conversation.

He grinds to a halt the moment he enters the room, finds himself frozen in place yet again because _Zoom_ is standing there in all his terrifying glory. He seems taller somehow, although he's willing to admit that that might just be his fear talking. Anger comes off him in waves, a press of menace that seeps into the skin and leaves only utter terror in its wake.

Caitlin and Cisco are cowering behind the computer console, both obviously terrified. He glances at them for a moment, thoughtful, and then deliberately strolls away from where they're crouching - puts himself between them and Zoom, as carefully as he can.

"You again," Zoom doesn't seem to notice. Zoom, to be perfectly honest, is too busy focusing on his aura of utter cosmic horror to pay any attention to anything outside of himself, "always you."

"Always me," he confirms, speaking before he even realizes it. And there's still terror in his gut, this horrible shaking thudding through him like a heartbeat, but there's no turning back from this now, "honestly, Zoom, the amount of times you've failed to kill me I'm starting to think that you're growing _fond_."

"Hah," Zoom snorts, a malevolent expulsion of air like he can still see the terror... But not the growing, angry determination underneath it, "I will take your speed, Eobard Thawne. I will take _all_ the speed."

"Will you now?" He asks boldly. And hears footsteps from the corridor - doubtlessly Joe, come to save the day with his usual impeccable sense of timing, "have you ever thought that that might not be the best plan, pray? I mean, people might protest. People might start disliking you. People _might_ even-"

He spins towards the door. Expecting Joe to come through at that exact moment, gun still out and bullets already flying.

...But it isn't Joe.

It's _Barry_. Having just shot down from the roof, with his hair still ruffled and his cheeks still red and his eyes so wide and innocent just like the last time.

Zoom glances at him, as the breath catches in his throat. There are no visible details under that mask, nothing but a strange and shapeless horror, but he swears that the _thing_ is smirking nonetheless, "I will take all the speed. I will kill all the speedsters, in all the worlds, and there is nothing you can do to stop me, Eobard Thawne."

And the thing shifts forwards, a lethal burst of blue headed straight for the just starting to tense Barry-

And he leaps into the gap without even thinking about it. Has just enough time to see Barry's mouth open in a yell, before Zoom's fingers close tight around his throat and carry him away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Apologies for leaving you all with that cliffhanger, but I shall be entirely away from a computer next week (we're going away for my partner's birthday!) and so won't be able to update this. See you again in two weeks, with the continuation of E2!Eobard Thawne's slightly terrible life!
> 
> (And, again, thank you for all the support! I've slipped a little in replying to comments lately, due to getting a slightly horrible illness that made staring at screens a bit hard, but I've read and appreciated all of them. Hopefully I'll be able to get around to answering them soon, and things shall return to some sort of regular schedule.)


	10. Chapter 10

The next thing he knows, he's lying in a bed with pain radiating throughout his body. He shifts a little, feeling soft sheets under his fingertips, and then winces as the pain shrieks up to an entirely too insistent stab. He feels like he's been pummelled to within an inch of his life. Worse than that, he feels like he's been run over with a steamroller then pummelled to within an inch of his life _then_ set on fire a few times just to make sure.

...Zoom.

Wonderful, as if the man - villain, _thing_ \- wasn't a perfect buttercup made up of threatening behaviour as it was.

He shifts a little more, pushing through the stabbing pain because he knows it's not exactly likely to last for long, and manages to lift his head just a little. As expected, he's in Star Labs - the medical area has been entirely given over to him, and he appears to be reclining in the most comfortable bed they could summon up at short notice. As slightly less expected, Iris is dozing in a chair to his right - hair covering her face and forehead wrinkled as if she's experiencing bad dreams. As completely unexpected, Barry is asleep on his other side - long brown eyelashes fanning over his cheeks, beauty ruined only by the worry carved into every inch of his face.

He stares for a second, at Barry. Allows himself to feel triumph, briefly, that Zoom wasn't allowed to get to him this time... And then gently clears his throat, somewhat displeased at how even that seems to take a lot out of him.

Iris reaches partial conciousness first, eyes blearily opening as if she's not quite sure what's going on, but Barry has the Speedforce on his side and so reacts faster. There's only a moment of hesitation, a slightly dreamy stir, and then he's shooting out of his chair. Almost bouncing onto the bed with the exuberance of his reaction, "you're awake!"

"He's awake," Iris echoes blearily, slowly blinking. But she is Iris West, and so soon stirs her way to full alertness with a rapid shake and a sudden beam, "he's awake! Dad, get in here, he's _awake_!"

Yeah, sure, and apparently that's a good thing. Every part of him feels bruised, he has the distinct impression that he shouldn't actually be alive, Zoom can apparently make it all the way into their base without much effort and he's apparently set for another confrontation with the formidable Joe West. But at least he's awake, so apparently that's all-

...But then Joe actually appears in the door, smiling the most genuine smile that he's ever seen the man give, and he decides to lay aside the bitterness - and the stabbing pain in his throat - and focus on the positives. He's awake, he's alive. Joe is looking at him without loathing, Iris is practically dancing at his side. And Barry Allen is sitting on the edge of his bed, beaming at him with such brightness that it's like there's nothing wrong in the universe and never will be. 

 

\--

 

"How long _was_ I asleep for," He starts thoughtfully, several hours later after Joe has finally convinced Iris and Barry to stop hanging anxiously over him and go home for some rest, "exactly?"

"About a day?" Joe makes a face, as if to suggest that that's quite possibly the roughest estimation possible, "we were all pretty worried, Barry especially. He hasn't left your side ever since he got you back here, Iris has been hanging around almost as long."

"What happened?" He pauses for a second, smirks painfully and holds up a hand before Joe can do more than open up his mouth with a faintly amused expression, "I mean, after Zoom went for Barry and I made the exceptionally noble and stupid decision to get in the way. I remember that part well enough, it's rather hard to forget in my current state."

"Zoom took off with you, pretty much immediately. He seemed a little pissed that he hadn't actually managed to get Barry, but he still had a speedster so he didn't seem too put out by the whole thing," Joe sighs, shrugs a little with his face still thoughtful, "Barry followed after him, we tried to do the same as soon as we grasped what was going on but were... Somewhat less than successful."

"Ah, the disadvantages of not possessing superspeed," he muses wryly, and is somewhat surprised when Joe actually smiles a little in response, "I recall getting grabbed by him, a blur of motion and then... Very little. The next thing I remember clearly is waking up in this bed, feeling like hell itself."

"That ties in with what Barry said. Or, well, what we could actually get out of him," Joe makes a face, leaves him to wonder exactly how incoherent _that_ particular conversation was, "Zoom carried you around town, beating on you as he went. By the time that Barry could get anywhere close, you were apparently unconscious and looking not all that well. From what Caitlin said, when we got you back here, it's a miracle that you're alive."

"That's me, Mr Miracle," he purrs wryly, can't help wincing a little as that motion causes something to start stabbing in his throat yet again "...Although, actually, I think that name is taken. Barry went after Zoom?"

"Barry went after Zoom," Joe confirms, watching him with something that is almost close to... Concern? "For you."

"And he's alright?" He asks, ignores the way that his throat burns more by the second - an entirely awful sensation that may well put him off good deeds for the rest of his life - to fix Joe with a slightly paranoid gaze, "I mean, he looked alright when I saw him. But is he actually-?"

"Eobard, calm down," Joe orders, stands up from his seat by the bed and glares at him sternly until he rolls his eyes and forces his body to relax, "do you want a glass of water? I'm getting you a glass of water."

He nods, a touch peeved, and watches as Joe strides off. A long few moments, and then there's a sudden rush from the second nearest sink and Joe returns carrying a glass of water. It's forced upon him quickly, and he's both amused and annoyed to find himself the recipient of a stern stare until he actually lifts it to his lips and drinks.

"I can never find anything around here," Joe informs him, watching until he drains the last drop, and then takes the glass from his unprotesting fingers and sets it firmly on the side table, "Barry is fine. Probably a lot higher up on Zoom's shit list, but fine."

"He saved me?" He checks, somewhat relieved to find his throat free of razors again, and can't quite help a smile as Joe nods in confirmation, "how?"

"Barry is the most determined person I've ever known. Give him a big enough run up, and he can perform any number of miracles," Joe shrugs, and he becomes aware only after the fact that they're mirroring each other's fond smiles, "he caught up to Zoom just outside Iris' work. Apparently managed to distract him for long enough for somebody to draw a gun and get a shot off. We're not sure if Zoom was hit or not, but he dropped you and Barry was able to get you away."

"And carry me back here?" He questions, although he already knows the answer.

"With Iris quickly following, just in case," Joe confirms, and gives a proud little laugh. As he should, despite his own faults he's managed to raise two seriously badass kids, "Caitlin and Joan did what they could for you, but Jay said that the best thing we could possibly do was to let the Speedforce take over. We followed his advice, even if reluctantly on some parts, and left you to rest... And now we're here."

"With me healing," he sums up, immediately tenses as a sudden stab from his muscles reminds him of the dangers of overconfidence "...Or, at the very least, starting to heal."

"To the great relief of all of us," Joe chuckles, that actual honest to god smile still upon his face, "yeah."

...And he's been restrained, he's been perfectly willing to let certain things slide in his current state, but that's really far too much for any self-respecting nosy dick to resist, " _all_ of us?"

He's not expecting much, a sudden closing off and clipped retort at best, but... Apparently this universe is as addicted to sudden surprises as ever. Joe hesitates for only a second, before leaning back in his chair and offering a slightly more subdued version of his smile, "I'm starting to think that I was wrong about you, Doctor Thawne."

"I-" he starts, and has to glance away for a second. Pretend to rub his extensive wounds, just to give himself time to think "...You weren't that wrong. I'm still not a nice person, nor particularly a good one. I'm not Zoom, but you were correct that I have far more of my alternate self in me than any of you should be comfortable with."

"Yeah, but you're _not_ him," Joe points out like it's obvious, pointedly stares at him until he just has to lift his head and meet the man's eyes, "you may be a bit of a dick, you may not be a hero, but neither of those things make you evil. You try, and you help even when you don't particularly want to, and I know now that you'd never really hurt anybody here no matter what. I was wrong about you."

"Joe..." He starts. Not exactly speechless, thank god, but somewhat unwillingly overcome.

"Eobard," he receives sternly in return, accompanied by a smirk that says more than words ever could, "I'm apologising abjectly here. Which, ask Iris, is something that does not happen very often. Take it while it's hot, is what I'm saying."

"...My apologies," he decides, and this time doesn't bother to hide his smile. There's no point, after all, and in the darkness of this world he might as well highlight the brightness when he can, "I was obviously not thinking things through. Are we to declare a truce, then, based upon the information that neither of us are quite as dickish as we seem?"

"A truce," Joe actually laughs. And then pauses, fixes him with a more playful version of the stern glare from earlier, "though I still want you to know that I don't quite approve of you looking at Barry like that, mind."

"No worries, Detective West," he sighs, smirks and equally playful smirk in response, "I'm pretty sure that my hypothetical interest, if there is any, has no chance of being reciprocated. As such, you have absolutely nothing to worry about."

"...Hm," Joe says. And the humour fades from his eyes, to be replaced by a level of thought that he finds something close to worrying, "I wouldn't be so sure about that."

 

\--

 

"Eobard!" Jay cheers when he arrives the next morning. And, before he can do more than offer the wryest smile in reply, is across the room and wrapping him up in a rather enthusiastic hug, "I thought you were dead, but you're alright! You're alive! You're...! Finding this whole thing deeply strange, aren't you?"

"Yes," he says against Jay's chest, and has the _wonderful_ pleasure of watching the man leap practically across the room to get away - cheeks heating to a quite amusing shade of scarlet, "I now never wish to see your face again, because you have offended me so very deeply. Get out of my sickroom, and out of my life in general."

"He doesn't mean that," Joan, the far more sensible one of the pair, informs her husband as she enters the room behind him. Her mouth is ticking up at the corner, but so far she's valiantly refusing the urge to laugh, "you don't mean that, Eobard. You're _glad_ to see us."

"I'm glad to see you," he informs her. And then, glancing across the room at the miserable looking Jay, decides to take mercy. Amazing, what a near death experience can do, "and also my very best friend in the universe, I suppose. Did I worry you with my sudden trip into Zoom's path, did you spend the entirety of my convalescence weeping over the possibility of my immanent death?"

"Nope," Joan gives, with a cheery shrug.

" _Joan_ ," Jay hisses, but does seem to lose a little of his miserable colour. Which, if anything, proves his need for a steadily annoying presence in his life, "of course we were worried, Eobard. It's not every day that somebody goes up against Zoom and manages to survive."

"One could say that the odds are actively against it," he purrs, scowls to himself as his throat still insists upon rasping over the action. He heals faster than the average human, true, but he'll still be down for longer than he would like, "one could continue to state, quite definitively, that my survival was practically a miracle."

"Not quite," Joan, ever logical, sighs. But when they glance at her, does offer a small smile that says more about her relief than any amount of loud protestations could, "but close enough as to be indistinguishable. You're obviously stronger than I thought."

"I'm obviously lucky," he corrects her, but with little venom in his tone. He knows very well, how terrifying it is to trust your universal well being to something as fickle as luck. It's only recently that he's started to accept it, as opposed to treating the entire concept with barely leashed scorn, "Incredibly lucky, to have Barry Allen around."

A brief pause. Joan bites her lip as if she's restraining giggles, and Jay stares at her fondly as if he's picturing their own relationship in oversentimental detail "...What was he like?"

"Barry?" He asks sugar sweetly, because a question like that combined with an expression like that just _deserves_ mockery, but sighs when Jay frowns and Joan gives a brief glare. Leans back in his bed, _carefully_ , and actually gives the matter some thought "...He was terrifying, as ever. A dark cloud of malice, trailing shades of blue. He was strong, and he was fast, and he was trying his very hardest to be deadly. And he hated all of us, so intensely that it was like a pressure against the skin."

A long pause lingers between them. Joan stops giggling properly, to frown. Jay shifts on his heels, worry obvious across his face.

"That's terrifying," is Jay's eventual conclusion, shifting so openly on his heels now that he just has to arch an eyebrow at it, "how are we ever going to beat him, if he's like that? We know nothing about him other than that he likes murder, intimidation and scaring literally everybody that he comes across."

"True, I suppose," he allows carefully, understanding that crushing fear better than he'd like... And glances across at Joan. Who is, herself, looking strangely edgy, "but, if I'm correct, we might well know more after today."

Jay stares at him for a second. Then obviously notices his focus upon his wife, and slowly glances across at Joan. A long pause, and then he seems to gather enough confidence to push on with an almost timid "...Joan?"

"Zoom hit me very hard multiple times, in multiple places. It seems likely that, with all his enthusiasm, he left something behind," he hints, and continues staring at the increasingly shifty looking Joan helpfully. Just to hurry on the whole shy, stumbling process, "did you scrape the biological material while you were treating me?"

Jay processes this for a second. Continues staring at his wife with so much confusion that it'd be adorable if it wasn't so hilarious "... _Joan_?"

"...Yes," and Joan glances at her slightly horrified looking husband for a brief and apologetic second, then stares back at him with triumph shining fiercely in her eyes, "I took as much as I could, while we were trying to fix you up. We have enough to start doing tests on, as soon as we're ready."

 

\--

 

"So," he purrs, pleased to discover that the action only results in a slight spike of pain in his throat this time, "what have you discovered from the material so far?"

"Uh," Cisco says, and glances to where Caitlin is checking the slowly healing lesions decorating his arms and arching her eyebrow while doing so, "I'm... Not entirely sure that I feel comfortable discussing this when you're recovering from a near death experience in a hospital bed."

"Nonsense," he smiles briskly, _very_ carefully hides his wince as Caitlin makes a face and starts to clean his most jagged looking wound, "if _I_ feel comfortable discussing this when I'm recovering from a near death experience in a hospital bed, then you should have no problem. Now, what have you discovered from the material so far?"

Caitlin and Cisco exchange another long glance, one with several layers of meaning, and then Caitlin sighs and bends back to swabbing his arm again, "not much, as we've only had about a day with the material. We have discovered some things, though?"

"Such as...?" He asks, and is very pleased with how he manages to turn his pained hiss into a thoughtful hum.

"He's definitely male," Cisco confirms, still shifty but looking non the wiser to exactly how unpleasant this process is, "and definitely in possession of the speedforce. We haven't been able to confirm much beyond that so far, due to the previously mentioned issue of not possessing time turners, but Caitlin thinks that he's probably young."

"Probably," Caitlin confirms, swabbing the cut one last time and looking at him as if she's not fooled by his acting at _all_ , "not child young, obviously, but possibly in his twenties or thirties judging by the state of his cells."

"That could be accounted for by the Speedforce, though," he feels honour bound to point out, winces only a little as Caitlin tightly wraps a bandage around his arm, "it does tend to... Delay the natural ageing process."

"In some cases, yeah," Cisco sniffs, still seeming non the wiser as he bites the inside of his cheek to cope with the tightening around his arm, "but it's still something, and it's still a lot more than we knew a few days back."

"It most certainly is," he smiles, uses it to cover the mild relief of the pain abating from an urgent stab back to a far more manageable gentle ache "...Are those the only things you've discovered so far, or are there more?"

A long and slightly unexpected pause follows. In which Caitlin steps slowly back from the bed, and Cisco bounces edgily on his heels.

"...Well?"

"We've done several tests that don't tend to take that much time," Caitlin is the one to answer, looking slightly edgy herself. An interesting expression, he can't recall Caitlin's open face ever looking all that edgy before, "and while we were doing them... Well, we found a close genetic match."

"A close genetic match?" It takes him a moment to process the information, unexpected as it is. But when he does, he can't quite help a frown, "to somebody you recognize, I'm assuming from your reactions. Well, who is it? Joe and Iris? Jay? One of you two?"

"No," Caitlin says very slowly, continuing to look a thoroughly worrying level of edgy, "the genetic match was actually... Well, it was to you, Eobard."

He blinks for a second, frankly stunned. Blinks for another quick second, frankly never gladder than he's been now for the advantages of superspeed thinking, "do you mean to Harrison Wells' DNA, perhaps? We may look alike, but I can assure you..."

"No," Cisco interrupts him, looking equally if not more uncomfortable. Odd, it's almost like they're reluctant to inform him of this news, "we mean you. As in, _you_ you. As in, Zoom has Thawne DNA."

"Specifically DNA close to yours," Caitlin provides, as he settles back in the bed and ignores the accompanying screech of pain in favour of _thinking_ about this, "we took a sample from you when you arrived here, and while it's definitely not an exact match it's close enough to be... Well, to use an entirely unscientific term, _creepy_."

"Unscientific, but seemingly accurate," he murmurs, not quite speechless but struck into deep thought, "this is troubling news."

"...Look, we're sorry we took the sample from you without your consent," Cisco provides, nervously into the silent thought like a stone into a perfectly still pool, "but we just thought-"

"Of course," he interrupts, already knowing which way this is going and offering a wry smile in understanding of it. He can't exactly be bitter, he's been expecting this ever since he learned the deeds of his other self, "I fully understand your viewpoint, and your suspicions of me. I fully understand if you want to place me back in my cell, and monitor me as closely as possible."

...But apparently, to his surprise, he's been expecting nothing.

"Uh, no," Cisco provides slowly, his face screwed up in confusion, and glances at Caitlin who looks much the same, "dude, you got punched in the throat by the guy while saving the life of our best friend. Of _course_ we don't suspect you."

"You don't?" He blinks again, hurries to cover his reaction with as professional a smile as he can manage considering the circumstances "...You don't, good. But if that's the case, can I ask-?"

"We told you because he may well be family," Caitlin provides, open confusion clearing to open sympathy. To be entirely fair, he preferred the first option, "and we'd both want to know if somebody related to us was doing what Zoom is doing. It only seems fair."

"Fair," he echoes, and finally starts to think through the implications of the news. The thought, that somebody sharing his blood could cheerfully attempt to take everything from him over and over again. The realization, that the Thawne blood... Will apparently result in death, every damn time, "well, I thank you for both your kindness and the information that you've provided. What do we do now?"

" _You_ are going to get some rest," Caitlin informs him, staring at him in a way that almost convinces him that all of his myriad emotions are nowhere near as hidden as he thought, " _we_ are going to figure this out with some science."

 

\--

 

He's half asleep late that night when he hears the scatter of superspeed footsteps. Still stuck in dreaming, he turns slowly in the sheets to face the door and encounters... Barry. Standing like an angel in the doorway, brown hair haloed by the light and eyes so soft that it's like a blessing upon him. All he can do is stare. Stare, and tilt his head, and appreciate the view for the near miracle that it is.

...For a few minutes. And then he tries to prop himself up invitingly on his elbows, and the sudden screech of pain is enough to send him coiling into himself with a gasp.

"Eobard!" Barry darts immediately to his side, concern wild in his eyes. But, luckily enough, the pain is enough to rouse him to the point where he's unlikely to do anything stupid, "are you alright? Are you okay? Are you alive? I'm sorry, I didn't mean to-"

"Barry, I'm _fine_ ," he only partially lies, through gritted teeth as he settles back against the pillows. He'll be fine soon enough, there's no need to trouble the boy until then, "a little achey, sure, but otherwise quite well. I thought that your father told you to go home and get some _rest_ as opposed to hanging me over like... Well, a mother hen."

"Joe has no business lecturing _anybody_ about being a mother hen," Barry informs him, hesitates for a second as if making sure that he's actually alright and then slowly settles into the chair besides his bed. In much the manner of somebody fully willing to bounce right back up into action, should the nursing need call, "and I went home, I rested, I'm fully charged now and ready to be here."

"Are you entirely sure about that?" He asks pointedly, maybe revelling a little in the opportunity to check Barry out without the risk of censure. His boy looks a little tired. Beautiful, but still definitely tired, "apparently you stayed by my side for a day straight. You can't just bounce back from that sort of thing immediately, Barry."

"I have superspeed," Barry answers him, with a cheeky arch of his eyebrow like it's obvious, "I can bounce back from a lot of things immediately."

"Your superspeed can't take care of everything, Barry," he sighs, and tries his very hardest to sound exasperated as opposed to fond. At the very least, he's sure that works fairly well - he's spent a lot of his life being exasperated, and relatively little of it being fond, "you still need to sleep, to eat, to take _care_ of yourself..."

"Eobard," Barry interrupts him, cuts right to the heart of his mock lecture with the kind of smile that could rival the sun, "I know. But, honestly, I'm as fine as I can be and I will go take care of myself even more once you've gone to sleep. I just... Needed to be here."

He hesitates for a second. Tries, perhaps a touch desperately, to build up his walls before Barry can see right through them, "at Star Labs?"

"With you," Barry corrects, and keeps smiling that blinding smile. The kind of smile that, in an ideal world, would show that he'd seen right through those walls and didn't even mind, "you saved my life, you know. I might as well show a little gratitude."

"By hanging around like a dog?" He asks, but any venom behind it is half hearted at _best_. Judging by Barry's smile, he recognizes this intimately "...My apologies, that was perhaps unfair. You aren't anywhere close to a dog. And even if you were, you would be a remarkably likeable one."

"Wow, that's the nicest compliment I've ever received," Barry says dryly, "I resemble a remarkably nice dog."

"A remarkably nice dog who owes me nothing," he clarifies, willing to run with this description for as long as it amuses his boy, "I'm not dead, Barry, so I didn't save your life. And I have no doubts that if you had been captured by Zoom, you would've been able to free yourself without any intervention."

"I'm not so sure about that," Barry chuckles, taking the correction with his usual amount of humour. Which is one of the main things he loves about Barry, the ability to face down all the darkness of the universe and still spring up again with a beautiful smile, "and, all jokes aside, I'm not here because I have to be. I didn't sneak out of my apartment and run all the way down here out of any sense of obligation."

"Barry..."

"I did it because I wanted to," Barry interrupts him, and allows his blinding smile to become something a lot softer - a tentative little thing, so soft that his cold little heart balloons several sizes at the sight of it, "because I want to take care of you, like you've taken care of me. But, of course, if you have a problem with that..."

"I have no problem with that, Barry," He murmurs before he even realizes it. And finds himself surprised at the intense tangle of emotion in his chest, the sudden surge of caring that he can't quite make sense of and doesn't quite want to, "I just... Promise me that you'll only stay until I fall asleep, and then you'll go back to your home and catch up on your own overdue rest."

"I _promise_ ," Barry huffs, with a melodramatic roll of his eyes. But then smiles again, bright and soft and quite possibly the best thing in any universe, "that I'll be here for as long as you want me, right up until you fall asleep."

He smiles helplessly, even if it does reveal too much, closes his eyes and allows himself to start to drift off again. It's only as the dreams start to edge in, as he feels Barry's hand warmly cover his on the sheets, that he realizes that he hasn't allowed himself to feel this level of relaxation in months.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Since it comes up in this chapter, Ronnie and Caitlin aren't a couple in this universe, and nor are the Steins.
> 
> Thank you so much for the support, you guys! I've finished this all now, and so shall (hopefully) update on Wednesdays until it's all out. :)

When the knock on his door comes the next morning he's just managed to lever himself out of bed and stand on his own two feet. It hurts like hell, his legs have entered into the tingling stage of numb and the base of his spine stabs with every movement, but he can't really mind that much. He's recovering, he's getting better, Zoom _can't_ keep him down.

...Zoom. Who is apparently somehow related to him.

The knock sounds again, and he shakes off the weight of it and brightly turns towards the door. There's little time for brooding, and he's never much been inclined to it anyhow - why should he hang around on the top of buildings, wallowing in the deep seriousness of his misery, when he can instead act and make things a little better for himself? He smiles, and calls, "I'm decent!" In as strident a voice as he can.

He isn't expecting Ronnie Raymond to awkwardly enter, but he's hardly against it. He hasn't spent much time with the man since their escape from Earth 2, and he's pleased to see that he looks a lot better than that wreck he stole away from an unfriendly hospital bed - his cheeks have filled out, and his eyes actually seem alert now. It's a quite striking change, "hey... Are you actually supposed to be up?"

"I can get up, so I might as well get up," he smiles, amused. Obviously Ronnie's time on earth 2 has rubbed off on him, he's become a nag just as certain as any person there, "are you to be my new physician, doctor Raymond?"

"My doctorate is in robotics. I'm an engineer, not a medical doctor," Ronnie pauses for a second, seems to think and then gives a low snort. The smile that spreads across his face doesn't dispel all the awkwardness in the room, but it does certainly help, "I just wanted to check in on you. As members of the 'fucked over by Zoom' club, I kinda think we should stick together."

"That's hardly that exclusive a club," he points out wryly, strolling in Ronnie's direction. He almost trips over and lands right on his face, of course, but it's the _thought_ that counts, "Zoom seems dedicated to, as you put it, fucking over everyone. We'd be in a club with a good proportion of the population of both Central Cities, and probably more outside of that."

"Then we'll just have to hire concert halls for our meetings," Ronnie chuckles, meets his gaze. And maybe he's getting nicer, or maybe this universe is just getting used to him, but the lack of actual offence there is an almost warming sight, "you look well enough. You're certainly healing faster than I did, if you can stand already."

"Bully for the Speedforce," he says wryly, proudly spreads his arms and firmly _ignores_ the grumpy flash of pain as he does so "...Did he do much the same thing to you, when he had you in his clutches?"

"If he had, I wouldn't be alive," Ronnie informs him honestly, a dark shadow in his eyes as if he's just recalling the full murderous potential of Zoom. Which is, you know, fair enough for a person who wants to keep some small measure of their sanity, "no, he hurt me enough to keep me in my hospital bed, but... He wasn't so physical, in his tactics."

"So physical?" He muses softly, and sighs a little as he gets it. Bully for superspeed thinking too, it _does_ tend to make every horrifying moment a delight, "ah, he used his nightmare fuel capabilities to their full advantage."

"It's hard to relax, when you've been separated from everything you've ever known and a vibrating shadow creature is watching over your every movement," Ronnie tries for another chuckle, realizes that it falls quite obviously flat and attempts a casual shrug instead, "he has... A lot of tactics in his arsenal."

"An understatement, if anything," he points out. But decides, because why the hell not, to stick with the apparent theme of this universe and show mercy to the poor boy, "but it's important to remember that for all his tactics, he hasn't taken down either of us. You're alive and reunited with the other half of yourself, I'm alive and steadily healing back up to full strength. He may have tried to take us down, but so far he's failed every time."

"...You're being positive?" Ronnie asks incredulously, very obviously not quibbling on the 'other half of himself' point, "seriously?"

"I know, I really must not be back to full strength yet," he chuckles, shakes his head. He doesn't know what this universe is doing to him, turning him into a _positive_ beacon of _light_ , but he finds that he minds it surprisingly little, "don't envy my mastery of the Speedforce too much, mr Raymond, it frequently fails to be impressive."

"Yeah, I didn't envy it anyway," Ronnie smirks honestly, takes his answering surprised laugh with a grin, "I can bond with a genius to fly, shoot fire and manipulate matter on a cosmic level. I'm pretty good with my life at present."

"And what part are you most good with?" He can't resist the urge to ask mischievously. Because perhaps he's developing into a little less of a dick, _mercy_ , but he can still hardly resist the urge to stick his nails in when it presents itself to him so obviously, "the superpowers, or the opportunity to bond with a certain genius?"

"...I-" And Ronnie, _bless_ the obvious pair, goes bright red. Ronnie seems to lose the ability to meet his eyes, in the most hilarious way, "I don't know what-"

Luckily he doesn't have too long to cackle. Cisco's activity alert blares loudly from the central room, before he can even open his mouth, and it's back to the usual business of chasing down metahumans and foiling crime. Like all good, normal people do.

 

\--

 

"Why are you out of bed?" Caitlin demands the moment he enters the room, turns to Ronnie the moment afterwards and fixes him with an amusingly stern glance, "why is he out of bed? He basically had his _back_ broken yesterday, he shouldn't be out of bed."

"Don't blame Ronnie for my bad decisions, Dr Snow, I'm far too fond of them to allow anybody else to take credit," he purrs. Is incredibly pleased to find that the act, this time, doesn't result in any terribly insistent pain whatsoever, "I'm out of bed because I can get out of bed, and because there's no time for lounging around when both the Rogues and Zoom are causing trouble."

"...You went one-to-one with the nightmarish presence of Zoom yesterday, Doctor Thawne," Stein points out, forehead wrinkled in confusion but eyes sparkling with something that he's going to take as admiration, "staying in bed for a day after that is _hardly_ lounging."

"It is for a Speedster," he points out, cheerfully, and moves on before anybody in the room can do anything more than blink. Yet another advantage of superspeed, you can _always_ have the last word, "now, what individual roguish villain is causing our heroic band trouble today?"

"You are _so_ weird," Cisco informs him, but seems the only one comfortable with actually putting his adorable concerns aside and doing his job, "it's the Trickster, laying traps in Central City park. Or, more accurately, baby Trickster."

" _Baby_ Trickster?" Caitlin asks incredulously, still glaring at him like his daring to stand is an insult to her very soul.

"Axel Walker, the one that our good friend Lisa broke out of prison a few weeks back," Cisco clarifies, with a briefly stuck out tongue, and returns to staring at the screen - forehead wrinkled in focus, "he doesn't seem to have any buddies with him... But, as we all know, he can cause enough chaos all by himself. We need to stop him as quickly as possible."

"You can't call Barry, he's still resting from last night," he orders sternly, and is briefly surprised as everybody else in the room briefly bites their lips as if holding back mirth, "the boy looks easy enough to stop, I'll just run over there with-"

" _Firestorm_ will just shoot over by himself," Caitlin corrects him firmly, and completely ignores Cisco's mutterings about pronouns in the background in favour of fixing him with a rather pointed glare, " _you_ will remember how injured you were yesterday, and will go back to bed and focus on healing."

"Doctor Snow..."

"Doctor Thawne."

"Come now," he says, perhaps a little more frustrated than he really should be. He's never taken all that well, to having barriers placed in his path, "this little problem would be resolved far more quickly with the aid of a speedster."

"This little problem would be resolved far more quickly if we didn't have this argument," Ronnie points out hesitantly, glances at Stein as if for strength and then nods to himself and starts heading quickly towards the door, "you focus on resting for now, we'll focus on catching the bad guy. It shouldn't take too much effort, not if he's all by himself."

"Yes," he says, a touch sourly as Caitlin raises her chin at him in triumph, "but it won't be anywhere near as satisfying as if his friend with a flame fetish was there, will it?"

It's a little cruel, but satisfying as both Stein and Ronnie turn bright red before quitting the room and Cisco has to hide an honest to god snort behind his hand. And he's pretty committed to taking what he can get, as Caitlin starts glancing pointedly in the direction of his hospital bed and he's stuck here without a single thing to do.

 

\--

 

In the end they compromise, and he's allowed to stay in the control room as long as he agrees to sit in the most comfortable chair that they have available. It's not that comfortable, but he doesn't comment on it for fear of being banished back to his far more boring bed.

"So," he starts idly, resisting the pressing urge to spin in his chair like a bored child as he watches the newly dubbed Baby Trickster dancing around the park like a madman, "has there been any progress made on Zoom?"

"You're the most impatient man I've ever met, and that's _saying_ something," Caitlin murmurs, and looks up from her busy monitoring of Firestorm's progress to fix him with a stern glance, "no, we haven't had the chance to do more tests since last night."

"I didn't necessarily mean tests, Doctor Snow," he smiles, not sure whether he's being ingratiating or annoying. Judging by the expression on Caitlin's face, possibly the sweet combination of both, "I meant..."

"Have we progressed any further with the problem in general," Cisco provides for him, with a wary glance in Caitlin's direction like he's trying to smooth things over. He doesn't blame him, Caitlin is impressively intimidating while she's angry, "I mean, you have thought about it. We might as well explore the possibilities while we're waiting."

"...There aren't that many possibilities to explore," Caitlin sighs reluctantly, but does stop glaring in his general direction. Sits back in her chair, and knits her fingers under her chin, "I was just thinking. You're from the same family line, right?"

"Apparently," he sighs, the reminder as annoying as a toothache every single time, "and unfortunately, I will add."

"So the Speedforce will presumably affect you in similar ways," Caitlin carries on, obvious annoyance fading to obvious sympathy for a second that is - in his mind - even more uncomfortable, "which means not only that you share some of the same abilities, but potentially some of the same weaknesses."

"...An interesting theory, doctor Snow," and a good one, he must admit. He really wishes that he'd thought of that a little sooner, "so, what do you plan to do with it? Drop various weights on me until you see what wounds, or punch me in the face until I beg for mercy?"

"Less violent methods," Cisco interrupts, with a glance between them like he's finally realising the true impossibility of playing the peacemaker between them, "I hope."

"We'll see," Caitlin proves him right, with a narrowing of her eyes that makes his heart _soar_ with fondness.

"I'm in position!" Until Ronnie's voice, warped by the Firestorm, comes loudly over the speakers in the manner of a true hero. And they go back to business, the far more reassuring kind where somebody of his blood didn't murder the only person that he's ever truly loved.

 

\--

 

He’s never really been able to busy himself with nothing. To be perfectly frank, he’s always considered it one of hid main weaknesses. It’s never been as if he’s always had the urge to make the world a better place, the exact opposite for the majority of his life, but he’s always felt the push to do _something_. Be it darting around at top speed, inventing a vital new branch of science, even plotting certain brands of mischief to trip Jay up right onto his perfect face.

Being able only to sit here and watch, then, is a _uniquely_ frustrating experience.

He watches the way that Firestorm moves, smooth and fast and perfectly bonded. Their every movement is calculated, possibly the perfect blend of physicality and brains. For a figure on fire, soaring through the sky and trying desperately to stick an uncooperative rat into an unwanted cage, They’re surprisingly graceful.

He thinks on what he could do, if he was up and running at full capacity.

He watches the way that the baby Trickster, Axel Walker with his still chubby face, counters Firestorm’s attempts. Really exceptionally like a rodent trying to avoid an unwanted imprisonment, a ball of chaos and fury that would be almost impressive if it wasn’t so deeply annoying. He dances and capers, pulls explosions seemingly out of the air, cackles almost hysterically all the damn time – it’s like watching a car crash in motion.

He muses on how he could help, if he was allowed to properly play with science and show his full capabilities.

He watches the way that they interact together, the interplay between flame and dancing trick. He notices how Firestorm largely takes the offensive, how Axel doesn’t actually seem to be on the defensive but more the... Avoidant. He seems to be acting in much the same way that Heat Wave and Weather Wizard were several weeks earlier, making sure to draw attention while doing nothing of real substance.

He wonders on how his life would be different if he had stuck to his scheming, stuck to caring only about himself, stuck to the life of lonely selfishness. Would he still be sitting here unable to move without pain? Would he still be sitting here only able to watch and linger helplessly? Would he still be sitting here so weak?

...He closes his eyes, just briefly.

He stands up, ignoring the brief pound of pain that filters through all of his limbs, and staggers towards the door while Caitlin is distracted by the battle on the screens and Cisco is distracted by giving sensible instructions. Maybe some air will clear his head. Or, at the very least, distract him enough that it no longer really matters.

 

\--

 

He doesn’t quite have enough energy to shoot up to the fond place where he sat with Barry a few days back, so instead has to settle for standing in the tiny courtyard just outside the labs instead. It doesn’t have as much of a view. It doesn’t have as much of anything, really, being just a nondescript concrete place with a few scrubby and ill-tended plants clinging stubbornly to life. He considers, briefly, suggesting that they hire a gardener.

...He considers that they have considerably bigger problems than the aesthetic, and sighs slowly through his nose.

Life would be a lot easier, if he was still properly and selfishly evil as opposed to just a bit of a dick. He could abandon this world to Zoom without a thought, focus on saving his own skin without a care in the world. Life is a lot easier for the unrepentant villain as opposed to the reluctant hero, and he’s starting to think that it’ll be a lot less hard to survive.

...But, then, he supposes that it would also be significantly less satisfying. Aye, and there’s the rub. It would be significantly easier to just start ignoring the lingering remnants of his morals again and shoot off into the sunset all by himself, but the fact of the matter is that he couldn’t quite stand leaving behind what he’s found here. Caitlin and her determination, Cisco and his lively jokes. Ronnie and his inappropriate crushes, Stein and his carefully covered recklessness. Joe and his reluctant patronage, Iris and her cheerfully provided friendship. Barry, just _Barry_.

And this is why he can’t really stand the recovery period, it always leaves him depressingly maudlin. He sighs, shakes his head at his own foolishness, turns on his heel and prepares to go find _something_ to do-

And immediately comes face to face with Lisa Snart in the flesh. Her head cocked, a sweet smile on her lips and Hartley Rathaway standing a few steps behind her with a shifty expression upon his face.

“Ah,” he says, and sighs a deep and heartfelt sigh, “you know, I _thought_ that the adventures of Baby Trickster might be yet another clever distraction. I’m both pleased and horrified to find that that was entirely the case.”

“You think I’m clever?” Lisa purrs, batting her eyelashes and aiming her gun.

“Stop _flirting_ with the marks, Lisa. It makes us look unprofessional,” a drawling voice comes from behind him. And, before he can even think to use his speed, there’s a sharp pain against the bone of his skull and then only blackness.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the lack of chapter last week, guys! I had an unexpected operation on the Tuesday, and was laid up for a few days. Hopefully (HOPEFULLY) things should go back to normal from this point on!
> 
> Just a reminder that canon relationships don't really apply here, so neither Ronnie/Caitlin or Stein/Clarissa exist in this universe.
> 
> Hope you enjoy!

He wakes up to find himself bound in a sitting position, his mouth tasting like death itself and his head steadily pounding. He’s tied to a chair, his arms secured behind him in a way that means he can do little more than slowly turn his wrists inside their bonds and feel the scratch of the rope against his skin.

It’s certainly not the _most_ encouraging situation he’s found himself tied up in.

Other details filter through to him slowly, as he bothers to pay attention to them. He’s tied up in some sort of warehouse, his seat in the middle of a wide concrete floor. As far as warehouses go it’s a nice warehouse, with a clean floor and light filtering in from some high set windows. There are distant voices coming from another section, possibly arguing over how much it must cost to rent this place. A loud female voice keeps rising and falling, backed up by a low drawl and opposed by a sulky mutter that sounds almost like Hartley’s.

...Well, no point in indulging in pointless speculation. He doesn’t try his bonds again, because that would hardly lead to a satisfactory result. Instead he only politely clears his throat, scrapes his feet hard enough against the floor to echo, “hello? I’m awake, in case anybody was wondering!”

The arguing suddenly silences, replaced by a long and _almost_ thoughtful pause. Then comes the quick scatter of feet, his captors heading steadily to his location. He lounges back in his chair, waits patiently... And is soon rewarded by a whole _five_ of them spilling out onto the concrete before them. Hartley Rathaway and Mick Rory looking somewhat sulky, Mark Mardon and Lisa Snart looking somewhat smug, the singular man he doesn’t know staring at him with a steady assessment in his eyes.

Wonderful. If his hands were free, he’d clap joyously. As it is, he just settles for a very bright smile and lounging back even further in his makeshift throne, “now, isn’t this just lovely? I’m exceptionally glad to see you all again. I did think that I’d have to wait until a prison visit before we could all catch up! How have you been? Kidnapped any people lately?”

“I told you he’d be trouble,” Hartley snaps, glaring around the other four with an odd light of triumph in his eyes. That’s Hartley on all universes, apparently, trying to assert his superiority in every single situation no matter how inappropriate, “we should’ve held out for someone else, someone less likely to talk at us until we have to shoot him to keep him quiet. He’s going to fuck the whole operation up, and we’ll only-“

“Stop trying to be threatening and shut the fuck up, Hartley,” Lisa suggests with a big grin, in much the manner of a person who has been winning that particular argument for quite a while now, “everybody at Star Labs likes talking, it’s kind of their thing. This way we don’t have to wait around forever, and Axel has less chance of getting burned to a crisp.”

“Pity,” Mark sighs, looking almost dreamy at the prospect of the immolation of one of his – presumably – close allies.

“Yeah,” Mick huffs, looking less dreamy and more like a teenager who has been told that they can’t go to prom unless they get their abysmal grades up, “why did me and Mark have to stay here while you guys got to go do fun stuff? I wanted to go see Firestorm!”

“People!” the one man he doesn’t really recognize, but does have a significant clue about judging by his resemblance to young Lisa and the stylish parka apparently grafted to him, interrupts. Throws up his hands and glares until his presumed sister stops rolling her eyes and everybody else stops looking like they’re five seconds away from rioting, “that is all besides the point, and risks alienating our lovely guest. We have him now, and this is hardly a situation where we can leave an apologetic note and arrange a swap. We just have to make do with what we have.”

“And you do, if I may be so bold, have a lot,” he takes the opportunity of the brief silence to interrupt. Narrowly resists the urge to preen like a peacock as every single eye in the room, from furious to amused, turns to him, “but what do you plan to do with the stunningly attractive and intelligent prisoner in your midst, may I ask? You _can’t_ just mean to entertain me with a floorshow.”

“Maybe we do. Maybe we mean to collectively turn away from our life of crime and seek a career treading the boards instead,” Leonard Snart, pretty much confirmed by the quirk of his smirk and the flamboyancy of his gesture, bows a little. Comes up with a certain glint in his eye that really just screams of trouble, “or maybe we have other plans for you, plans which we’re not so inclined to share with a man whose lasting wellbeing we hold firmly in our hands.”

“Keep quiet for long enough,” Lisa chirps, still looking amused in an entirely and utterly charming way, “and we might reveal them to you!”

“Then I must resign myself to never finding out. For I am somewhat like a shark, and if I do not constantly talk I will run out of steam and die,” he purrs sarcastically. Smirks, at how it doesn’t hurt at all, and sits back upon his makeshift throne to cheerfully observe the chaos yet again, “how sad. Please do resume the floor show, so I can drown my sorrows in mirth.”

Leonard Snart smirks, slowly. And the world keeps turning almost as it should.

 

\--

 

They decide, belatedly but he’s going to show some discretion for the sake of human decency, to take timed watches on him. Lisa draws first watch, but begs off with a pout on account of making up literally all of the recent plans, and so it falls to the next draw to keep an eye on him and make sure that he doesn’t tumble out of his chair or anything equally foolish.

...Which in how he comes to be sitting in the warehouse across from Leonard Snart. A silence that isn’t exactly awkward, but also isn’t exactly friendly, stretching between them.

“So,” a pity that he’s never been all that good at silence, or being a prisoner, or sitting still, or... Anything that the average mind would really consider sensible, “are we playing charades? I’ve always been good at charades. It would be better if I could move more than my nose, of course, but-”

“Hm,” Snart purrs, and very deliberately doesn’t tell him to be silent. It’s almost as if he enjoys the banter, which is a trait that he can appreciate and admire in any good villain, “I’ve always preferred Monopoly myself. Was remarkably good at it, as I recall... When we could actually afford both the board and the counters, of course.”

“Ah,” he smiles, subtly insolent as opposed to integrating. It’s a detail that goes over the heads of most people, but by Snart’s smirk he catches it perfectly, “you’re a strategy man, you like the element of planning.”

“That, and stealing all the money from the bank when Lisa wasn’t looking,” Snart chuckles, and sits back in his chair with a certain swagger that he half considers stealing for his own act. They stare across the room at each other like equals, for all that Snart is nominally free and he’s nominally tied to a chair, “I’m not actually playing games, doctor Wells.”

“Call me Eobard,” he offers graciously, because it’s always good to bring something other than his natural charm to a negotiation such as this, “and I never said you were. Implied it, yes, but the actual words never crossed my lips.”

“We kidnapped you for a purpose, _Eobard_ , and if you fulfil that purpose things are likely to go well for you. If you don’t...” Snart gives a smooth shrug, a tactic that he’s used himself many times. A veiled threat is always better than outright detail, after all, considering that it gets the target to do all the imagination work for you, “now, tell me. How close to you is Barry Allen?”

The words are obviously meant to shock him, but Cisco already did the kind work of getting him up to speed on exactly how much Snart knows. He arches an eyebrow, smiles as brightly as possible, “it really depends on the time of day, mr Snart. Sometimes he stands right in front of me. Sometimes, as now considering my current kidnapped state, he’s actually rather far away. You can’t expect our proximity to remain the same all the time.”

“Cute,” Leonard smirks, which is probably threatening to most people. A criminal in on the joke is the second scariest kind, after all. Right after a dungeon horror with superspeed and a snazzy leather suit, “but I _meant_ how close are you to him emotionally? And I would answer seriously, Eobard, or I may well consider shattering a few fingers.”

He can heal fingers quickly. Although, to be fair, it would be a touch annoying after just recovering from the overenthusiasm of Zoom... He considers for a second. Shrugs, quickly rubbing his wrists up against the ropes, and smiles another subtly insolent smile, “about as close to him as you are, I’d say.”

Snart starts violently in his chair. Is smirking arrogantly again the next moment, of course, but in a way that simply can’t erase how dramatically he just showed his hand. His suspicions were right, which is both deeply annoying and satisfying in a way that he can’t exactly deny, “you really must not be very attached to your fingers if you think this is the time to unveil a comedy routine.”

“I’m not joking, mr Snart,” he says quickly. Noting along the way how, for all his bravado, Snart still isn’t moving to actually find something to harm him with, “although I could, perhaps, be more clear. Barry respects us both, but would never really think of trusting either of us. He may sometimes forget himself and enjoy our company, but in the end he always remembers what we are and turns away again. In short we are both relatively close to Barry... But, I suspect, not as close as either of us would like.”

Snart stares at him for a long second. And then gives a quick smirk and shrugs, papering his cool exterior back into place with a level of skill that he would applaud if moving his hands wouldn’t be a deeply stupid idea, “I’m not going to deny that I wouldn’t mind getting closer to the kid. I mean, that ass in red leather is quite the sight.”

“True, as are those abs,” he can’t resist purring, watches with some satisfaction as Snart’s eyes go obviously narrow with envy at the rare sight that has been denied him, “but that’s not exactly what I meant, Mr Snart. And I think you know it.”

“I...” Snart braces his forearms on his thighs for a brief moment, glances away from him like he’s suddenly been plunged into the unique horror of being speechless. A long moment, and then his shoulders ever so bravely square and he looks back with a smirk upon his lips, “what a truly unusual way to attempt to bond with your captor. Allow me to compliment you on your daring.”

“I always have been a unique sort,” he smiles modestly, yet again experiencing that odd mixture of annoyance and triumph, “but, to get back to the matter at hand, maybe it’d be easier if you asked me a simple yes or no question?”

“An excellent idea,” Snart allows, with a casual little dip of his head that somehow manages to be charming with the slightest edge of lingering threat. Wonderful, lesser criminals should really be required to write essays on Leonard Snart’s mastery of emotional manipulation, “if you were in danger, would our dear mutual acquaintance do anything to save you?”

“Barry would do anything to save anybody, that’s just the type of person he is,” he answers instantly, can’t really help a far too honest smile at the thought of the boy’s natural heroism – the way he wears red, the way he beams whenever he saves a life, the sheer goodness within him that makes the rest of the universe seem dull by comparison, “and that is, I suspect, the reason why we both like him so much.”

“I said it was daring, not sensible,” Snart informs him with a deadly look in his eye. Glares for a long and quite probably intimidating second... And sits back in his chair and smirks again, the ice between them satisfactorily broken by the means of an entirely simple negotiation, “now, in the absence of charades and monopoly we’ll have to find other ways to entertain ourselves. Heard any good riddles lately?”

 

\--

 

A few hours later, when the esteemed Leonard Snart has left to get some sleep and been replaced by the slightly less esteemed Mark Mardon and the most definitely less esteemed Mick Rory, Axel Walker finally makes his triumphant return. Or less than triumphant return. He tumbles through a skylight, half of his very shiny suit burnt black, and very narrowly catches himself and flips onto his feet before he lands face first on the floor.

"Bravo!" He laughs, as alert as ever. Ah superpowers, an eternal joy. He doesn't really need that much sleep, only does it for the sheer pleasure of it. And today that pleasure is outweighed by the even more immediate pleasure of remaining fully awake to fuck with people, "great show, ten out of ten!"

"Oh, you got him," Axel grunts, sounding somewhat less than pleased. And then seems to remember himself, his sense of _showmanship_ , and draws up - paints on his widest, most over-exuberant smile, "you _got_ him, and now this troublesome meddler is in our grasp for us to do whatever we please with! Tell me, what revenge shall we take first?"

"The _quiet_ kind," Mark, obviously and endearingly annoyed, snarls. Lays the cards from the game he and Mick were playing - some unholy combination of uno and poker, from what he can tell - down on the table with an annoyed shake of his wrist, "where we sit in silence, and contemplate the possibilities."

"You're back," Mick takes a different method, throwing his mixed hand down on the table so violently that cards scatter everywhere. He does hope that they're more amenable to cleaning here than at Star Labs, or else this entire group criminal living arrangement is going to become very complicated very quickly, "and you encountered _him_ in all his burning, heated glory."

"Uh," Axel says, a brief expression of despair over what his life has become flashing across his face. But he's obviously a showman, and so it soon goes back to that only slightly forced capering joy once again, "I met many men on my travels today, my dear-!"

" _Firestorm_ ," Mick interrupts impatiently, as Mark gives an entirely heartfelt roll of his eyes. And, as he watches in amusement, the man jumps from his chair with such feeling that it clatters back to the floor - strides over to Axel, whose wide smile is becoming increasingly forced, "the man who was on _fire_. What was he like? How did he act? How does his smile look? Did he _mention_ me at any point?"

"We hardly talked, my dear man," Axel purrs, so deliberately casual that it's almost like he's about to grind his teeth down right to the gum, "he threw fire at me, I dodged multiple times, we chased each other around in a merry game and eventually I _escaped_. Our interaction didn't stretch much further than that."

"So he deliberately threw fire at you?" Mick asks, eyes gone wide and slightly starry in a way that reminds him - ever so amusingly - of Ronnie's unguarded reactions whenever the name of Heat Wave is mentioned, "how did it feel? What was it _like_? How was he-?"

"It was terrifying," Axel finally snaps. And he's inexperienced, definitely, but the fact that he manages to make even that sound sugar sweet shows that he potentially has a bright future if he can just get his reactions under control, "and somewhat hot. And he was a man who was on fire, and seemingly dedicated to setting _me_ on fire. I'm not really sure what else you want to know."

"His star sign, his favourite colour and whether he likes long walks on the beach," Mark purrs wryly, looking incredibly amused at this whole interaction. He can't really blame the man, this is even better than the floor show earlier, "oh, and preferably his number. So he can check whether he likes Chinese food and the concept of Netflix and Chill."

"Well," Mick grins, as a briefly _appalled_ expression flashes across Axel's face, "not exactly _chill_ , if you know what I mean..."

"Excuse me," hilarious, he could watch this for _hours_. But, amusing as it is, it does leave a little edge of uncertainty about his fate that it would be best to quash as quickly as possible. He gives a subtle stretch behind the chair, smiles politely as three sets of eyes snap over in his direction, "but I happen to know all that information and more, if you're at all interested."

A long pause. And then Mick steps quickly away from Axel and marches over to him, ignoring Mark's half heartedly restraining hand along the way, "you know Firestorm?"

"Both halves of him," he gives casually, and watches with great amusement as Mick's eyes go significantly wider that his stomach, "indeed. We happen to be colleagues. And, out of the kindness of my heart, I am willing to share several little titbits about him with you."

And out of the urge to distract and gain certain relevant bits of information, of course, but he can pretend kindness for as long as it's amusing.

"Several little titbits," Mick repeats, eyes still so wide that it's a miracle that they don't fall out of his head. Mark is still trying to look disapproving in the background, but is largely failing to look anything other than fascinated. Axel simply looks as annoyed as it is possible for a human being to look, "such as...?"

"One half is a Pisces, the other is a Aries and neither of them are particularly interested in astrology," he provides, and smirks as even that simple information causes Mick's face to light up, "one half likes gold, the other is rather fond of red. They're both amenable to long walks on the beach, but currently prefer hovering instead. Oh, and they both talk about you a _lot_."

"They know that I exist," Mick breathes, and glances excitedly back to where Mark is very obviously biting his lip in an attempt to avoid laughter, "they know I exist!"

"As such, I think they'd both be pretty amenable to me giving you their number," he continues smoothly, inwardly amused by the fact that that's probably not even a lie in both cases, "but... Well, I'm afraid that I will need something in return."

"We aren't letting him go," Axel interrupts, twisting his mouth into a smile only as Mick turns to glare at him, "I mean... It would hardly be a good trick, if we let him loose now before he could even serve his purpose."

"That's not what I'm going to ask for," he demurs politely, has the unique pleasure of every set of eyes in the room snapping to him yet again. A good thing, that he's always rather liked being the centre of attention, "I mean, I obviously wouldn't mind being freed... But that is obviously impossible at present juncture. No, what _I_ want is simply some information."

"What we want you for?" Mark guesses, establishing himself - without much effort - as the second smartest person in the room, "what wicked acts we have planned, and when we plan to put them into motion?"

"Exactly," he beams, and watches everybody at the room slowly glance at each other - obviously unsure as to why that would actually be any sort of problem, "that's hardly much in exchange for a number, is it? Especially when you'll only be telling a man who currently can't move..." 

 

\--

 

Those three were easy enough to distract, but he's nowhere near as sure about his next guard. He sits awkwardly in his chair, and across from him Hartley Rathaway perches with his eyes intensely fixed and his mouth in an unmerciful line. Silence echoes between them, expectant and somewhat pointed.

"So," his ability to withstand such silences has always been rather low, it's one of his fatal flaws, "this is awkward."

"You actually noticed?" Hartley asks wryly, and sits back in his chair. It's probably supposed to look light and breezy, it actually looks worryingly like he'd snap in half if he moved just a little wrong, "you've stopped pretending that you're disabled, then."

"It was a regrettable period in my history."

"And have also changed your name, apparently," Hartley makes a face, tilts his head a little as if he doesn't approve. It is, quite frankly, a little adorable - he's seen more intimidating kittens, "I'm not sure what you plan to achieve, by doing either of those things, but I'm sure that you have some grand and overarching plan."

"To get closer to my true self," he purrs, hesitates for a fraction of a second before deciding to go the whole hog. It might distract Hartley for long enough that he can scratch a rather troublesome itch on his thigh, after all, "and further away, from my alternate universe self."

Hartley, as expected, stares for a second. It soon transforms into a glare, but the owlish surprise was an old favourite of his and he's glad to see it make a return, "this is an odd grand and overarching plan."

"Probably, but it's also the truth," he leans forward, as much as he deems to be appropriate for a man nominally tied to a chair and growing rather uncomfortable with it, "I'm not the man who screwed you over so completely, Hartley. I only look like him... And share his name, and some of his personality. But I'm not _him_."

"So you're just..." Hartley frowns for a second. Then snorts, lips twisting in a bitter laugh, "an alternate universe version of him."

"It sounds odd, I know," he offers, because that's probably an understatement. Even in a world where _walking sharks_ (seriously, he's never going to get over that) regularly threaten the populace, alternate universe doppelgangers are a difficult concept to grasp, "but if you're anything like the Hartley of my universe, you'll know that it's entirely possible."

"I _do_ have a strong grounding in Physics," Hartley preens, and then actually seems to consider for a second - eyes narrow behind his glasses "...And it is possible. I'm pretty sure that I've written academic papers on it, in fact. I'm just not sure that I believe you."

"Fair enough," he shrugs, smiles his most charming smile - the one that always used to make his Hartley go a little weak at the knees, "I've given you no reason to."

"I-" Hartley's breath skips for a second, the smile hitting its mark. And then his mouth tenses again, his eyes flash as he throws himself back in his chair and crosses his arms, "no, you never really have. I'm not sure what game you're playing, _Wells_ , but you don't get to come in here and pretend that you hold no responsibility for your actions because you come from some alternate universe."

He considers for a second, watches the man's angry face thoughtfully. He never really interacted with Hartley after he pretty much ruined his life, and so he never really faced any emotional fallout from his actions. Seeing Hartley's obvious rage now, the dark pain behind that rage... Well, it stirs something in his ever growing heart, "I never said that."

"You implied it pretty heavily," Hartley huffs, not inclined to be merciful. Because he never really was, he was always far more keen on throwing himself at every single problem like a destroying hurricane - hard enough to wound, fast enough to never be touched, "but, then, I don't know what I really expected. You've always been like this, disinclined to ever admit that you did anything wrong or hurt anybody."

He understands this boy now, better than he'd like.

...And so he thinks he knows what to do, to get through to the heart of the hurricane and rob it of the heat of its fury, "I'm sorry, that that was the case before."

"You never-!" And, as expected, Hartley halts. Hartley freezes, the air obviously gone hard in his lungs. Hartley stares at him, like he's just dropped a bombshell right into the centre of all his bitterly justified rage "...Okay, sorry, what?"

"I'm sorry," he repeats deliberately. And he's wielding the words like a weapon, sure, but he means it sincerely as Hartley slumps slowly back into his chair, "I didn't hurt you, personally, but... I hurt your alternate version in much the same way. I hurt many people, in much the same way. I was a terrible person, not quite a monster but close enough to be functionally identical to one to those who crossed my path. And I can never make up for that, but that doesn't mean that you don't deserve an attempt."

"I..." Hartley says slowly, brokenly, and mouths at air for a second. Briefly covers his face with his hand, for long enough for him to scratch that itch and settle several other matters alongside, "did I just hear that correctly? Did you actually just apologize to me?"

"You deserve it," he offers honestly, and gives as honest a smile as he can manage.

"You just apologised to me. Harrison Wells- Eobard Thawne just apologised to me," Hartley shakes his head for a moment. Finally glances up, a faint wetness at the corner of his eye that he kindly chooses to ignore, "that's all I ever wanted, you know? ...Well, that and your balls on a platter. But- just an admission, just a word of regret, just something to make me feel like I wasn't just a worthless failure in your eyes too."

A long pause, as he can't really think of anything to say in reply to that. Instead he settles for staring silently, offering that encouraging smile as honestly as he can. There's a lot of himself in Hartley, and he doesn't just mean that in a physical sense anymore - there's a recognition of what it's like to feel neglect there, an understanding of what it's like to have somebody potentially close to you rip out your heart and stamp on it until it's mush.

"...You're not him," Hartley decides eventually, having blinked his tears away until they're at the very least not immanent, "I'm still not sure if I buy your alternate universe story, but you're not him."

Thank heavens, he was starting to get _sentimental_ again. He inwardly sighs with relief, settles on maintaining that kind smile as a concession to sort of trying to be a decent person, "Indeed, I am not. And I think that's best for everybody involved."

"You said it," Hartley snorts, but not exactly with much force, He doesn't really seem cheerful, but he does seem a lot brighter than when this conversation first started. A good thing for both of them, really, "you know, I almost feel sorry for allowing Snart to whack you over the head and kidnap you now."

"Almost?" He asks wryly, and sees Hartley manage a smile for the first time in years, "well, I suppose we can't expect miracles. Will you also feel sorry when he deals with me after my purpose has been fulfilled?"

"Good lord, you really aren't him," Hartley remarks, and shakes his head with another snort. Like he's being foolish, like he's being _reassuringly_ foolish in the most encouraging of ways, "we're not going to kill you, Eobard, that'd be _stupid_. We don't need Ba- the Flash on our backs, or any of his increasingly numerous friends. Once your part is done in this, you're free to go."

"Reassuring to know," he says, and smirks quite happily to himself. That was the last thing he needed to know, and now matters can progress exactly as they should.

 

\--

 

The sun rises over his warehouse holiday home to highlight a tableau of villainy. Or, at least, a symposium of criminals. Or, at the _very_ least, a gathering of goons. The entire group of the Rogues stand in front of him, at least four of them looking rather sleepy but all looking fully braced for action.

"So," Snart drawls amiably, before he can offer a sarcastic comment on the nature of their little negotiation. An impressive thing, considering just how fast he can offer up sarcastic comments, "you may be wondering why we've brought you here."

"Well," he sighs thoughtfully, and smirks. If there's anything that his life has taught him, it's that there's _always_ time for a sarcastic comment, "correct me if I get anything wrong, but you wish to use me to force the Flash to steal the well guarded Star Sapphire crystal for you. You're going to threaten my safety until he gives in to your demands, and then set me up in some near death trap designed by Axel and scarper before he can get ahold of you."

All of the rogues, even Snart with his unmovable cool, stare at him for a long few seconds.

"...Is that close?"

"Creepily so," Lisa sniffs, glaring very pointedly at everybody else in the room - all of them starting to wear hangdog expressions, like they've just started to realize what they gave away, "but it makes no difference if you know or not, the plan still goes ahead anyway."

"Not exactly," he informs her casually, and watches her teeth grit with a quite bubbling level of amusement, "you see, I also know that you don't actually plan to kill me. And, indeed, would prefer to not even hurt me that badly. As such I am disinclined to let you compromise the Flash's morals over something that isn't even that much of a risk in the first place, and will do everything in my power to inform him of the lack of danger."

"Fine," Snart says, a dark glitter in his eyes that he can pretty much see through immediately, "then we'll just have to change _our_ moral stance, and see if you're so uncooperative in the face of torture."

"I heal very quickly, so that would do little good," he purrs, and raises his chin. Meets Snart's eyes, watches as the dark glitter in them fades to something a lot more thoughtful, "and I think that we're very similar people, mr Snart. If the torture serves no purpose, then you're disinclined to waste the time on something so pointless. If you let me go, however..."

"That would also be a waste of time," Hartley speaks up, frowning a little at him as if he half grasps the conversation but is still playing catch up on the full detail, "and we still wouldn't have the crystal. I'm not in favour of torturing him, I don't think any of us are, but I don't think we should do something as stupid as letting him _go_."

"Suggestions, then?" Snart sniffs, still staring at him with that thoughtful light in his eyes.

"...We could always keep him?"

"Axel, that's the most stupid-" Mardon stops mid snap, stares across at the boy with a briefly confused look flashing across his face "...Stupidly brilliant idea that I've heard in a while. We could _keep_ him here."

"Uh, forgive me if I'm being dumb," Mick says slowly, "but wouldn't that still be a bit of a time sink? I mean..."

"Anything is going to be a time sink by this point," Lisa corrects him thoughtfully, smiling a little at the very idea of unlawful imprisonment. Because, you know, obviously she hasn't had bad experiences in that regard, "but this is the one that involves the least effort. We keep him apart from his little Flash family until they're frantic. And then, just as they're going mad, offer to give him back only in exchange for the crystal. Oh, Axel, I could kiss you!"

"You're not my type."

"You know," he says thoughtfully, as the Rogues start entering into a state of entirely premature celebration, "I'm also pretty sure that I'm not entirely fond of that plan."

"You don't like the threat of severe bodily harm, you don't like torture..." Snart makes a face. Less overtly triumphant than the other poor children, but still cheerful enough to be entirely too obvious, "you know, Eobard, I'm starting to think that you're just too picky. As such, I'm overruling your opinion and going with my own."

"I wouldn't do that," he purrs thoughtfully, watching the capering fools around him with some amusement.

" _Tough_."

...And he stands up.

It's not a particularly showy movement, in fact it's a downright understated one by his standards, but every eye in the room still fixes on him. Axel's jaw drops open, Hartley's eyes go so wide that it's a wonder they don't pop from his skull with the force of their amazement. Even Snart, the most unphased one of the bunch, looks somewhat put out by the suddenness of the movement.

"He got out of his ropes," Lisa puts the thoughts of the room into words with one gasping sentence, soon followed up by a hot glare in his direction, " _when_ did you get out of your ropes?"

"Just before your brother's shift ended," he provides cheerfully, and goes as far as to actually hold up his burst bonds. He's never been a nice man, after all, and the urge to be showy is just too strong to resist, "honestly, why did you think that I didn't ask to go to the bathroom in all the time I was here?"

"This isn't necessarily a bad thing, though," Hartley theorizes, as the slow knowledge that nobody noticed his gained freedom throughout three separate guard shifts sinks into the room, "so he's out of his bonds, he's still got five highly trained criminals - and Axel - to get through."

"Hey!"

"Unfortunately, that isn't _quite_ true," he purrs, and hops forward into his very fastest blur...

Only to come to a halt about a minute later, holding the Star Sapphire crystal in his hand. He hefts it for a moment, appreciating both the weight and the way that everybody in the room seems to be reaching for the nearest weapon, and then tosses it in Snart's direction - watches as he catches it in midair, slowly eases down from full alert with a thoughtful expression upon his face.

"He's a speedster!" Mark is the voice of the room this time. The exceptionally confused, steadily frowning voice of this motley group of criminals accidentally given superpowers "...A speedster who just got us exactly what we wanted?"

"This," Mick opines, holstering his gun and scowlingly crossing his arms, "is above my pay grade."

"You're paid?" He asks sweetly, and then makes the decision to hurry up and explain as quickly as possible - before Snart can actually snap and shoot him with that gun he's still fingering, "the Star Sapphire crystal was in private ownership. Specifically, as my research turned up, the private ownership of a billionaire who cared little for anybody but himself. It would've still compromised the Flash to steal it, but I am a far worse man than him and so it was no skin off my back."

"...Yet again, I am rapt with admiration," Snart purrs, and finally takes his hand all the way off his gun - cradles the crystal, pink and faintly glowing, like it's something precious, "you've saved us at least a day more of arguing, Eobard, _and_ quite possibly multiple prison sentences. Now, what do you want in return?"

"I thought that we understood each other," he smiles, and strolls right up into Snart's face - gives him the look of one alpha predator to another, as pleased as punch that they've gotten this far, "I want to go _home_ , mr Snart. As fast as possible, as safely as possible, and with no extra risk to anybody's life. Can you do that for me, with your precious crystal firmly in hand?"

And Leonard Snart slowly smiles, a bond forming between them as quickly and simply as that.


	13. Chapter 13

In the end it's decided that Hartley, as the least likely to murder anybody with very little provocation, should handle the transfer. As such they end up sitting in Jitters several hours later, both cradling cups of coffee and watching the door with some interest.

"It's been ages since I've been here," Hartley informs him, sipping at his absurdly sweet concoction thoughtfully. The boy doesn't even have the excuse of superspeed to justify his faintly absurd sugar to coffee ratio, "I have to say, I continue to be unimpressed. The coffee here has _never_ really been up to standard."

"Have you considered that maybe you're just too picky?" He muses thoughtfully, and takes a long sip of his own incredibly sugary concoction as Hartley's mouth forms into a quite amusing O at his hypocrisy, "how long until the Flash is here?"

"The pick up is at an hour past... So, from what I've gathered of that boyscout, a few minutes. He seems like the type who'd be annoyingly early to things," Hartley smirks a little, takes another sip of his drink. Only rolls his eyes, at the glare he receives for such a thoughtless statement, "I do hope that it goes better than our last encounter, that was _somewhat_ embarrassing."

"Well, you're no longer attempting to look broody and gothic and cool. So maybe that'll work in your favour," he smiles sugar sweetly, is somewhat amused when he only gets another eye roll in reply, " _maybe_ the bright green will distract him."

"Don't knock the bright green," Hartley says defensively, pouting a little. The boy is ridiculous in every single universe he inhabits, it's always something that's appealed to him, "not all of us have limitless funds to spend on cool leather get ups. After my last one was ruined... Well, I was lucky to be able to afford this."

"Lucky," he muses softly, and feels the guilt clench in his stomach again. Such a lovely emotion, as all human emotions seem to be, "I really did screw up your life, didn't I?"

"To be fair, it wasn't just you," Hartley considers for a second, an oddly sad expression coming briefly over his face before being replaced by the good old overconfidence, "it was mainly you, of course, _but_. Is that your boyfriend coming over the hill now?"

Startled by this he jumps to his feet, spins expecting to see a red blur staring at him accusingly from the distance... And is instead stunned when Barry Allen edges in awkwardly through the door. Glances around for a few paranoid seconds, and then spots him and makes his way right across the room as quickly as it's possible to move without actually using superspeed.

"Are you alright?" The boy pants, grabbing both his arms and staring so intensely into his face that it's like he's actually cared for. Which is impossible, of course, but the heat there... "Are you unharmed? Did they _hurt_ you?"

"Barry," is the only thing he can think of to say, stunned by the sudden regard there. The thing that he must be imagining, but that seems so real all the same, "your identity-"

" _Eobard_ -"

"How sweet, how romantic, how boring," Hartley drawls behind them, having watched the whole pantomime with a smirk hovering upon his lips, "perhaps I neglected to mention that we've already met? My apologies, it was just so terribly amusing to see you worry about him risking his secret identity all for you."

A long pause. He slowly, deliberately so, turns around to glare. Barry does much the same thing over his shoulder.

"I said _sorry_ ," Hartley mock gasps, and smirks like the dick that he is. He holds some affection for the boy, especially in this universe where they've reached some sort of slow understanding, but good _god_ are they too much alike, "anyway, you can stop looking at me like that. Our dear Eobard is absolutely fine, and we haven't harmed a hair on his head. He's even still got those freckles on the left side of his lower back, the ones that look like stars."

He feels Barry tense over his shoulder, a sudden flinching that he doesn't quite dare to glance back to, "that's... Nice to know."

"They're on the right side of my lower back for me, actually," he corrects mildly, allowing his glare to fade to a mildly challenging look. One that Hartley accepts with a chuckle, and a slow raise of his glass, "it was nice seeing you again, Hartley. I hope that you hang around."

"So do I," Hartley purrs, looking so amused that he almost feels like giving up and laughing with the boy, "but probably not in _exactly_ the same way."

...And he expects Barry to join in with the banter, to indulge himself in his usual joyous challenging of the Rogues. But instead there's only a grunt over his shoulder, a hard tug at his arm until they're moving away from the still smirking Hartley as quickly as possible.

 

\--

 

It practically takes the use of his speed to keep up with Barry's scowling march, and that's saying something. He finally manages to catch up to him on the street outside, grabs his arm and gently pulls him around with confusion building in his head like a steady buzz, "Barry? I didn't think that you hated Hartley _that_ -"

"Were you with him?" Barry snaps, like he can't help himself. And then takes a deep breath, tries to look as calm as possible as he takes a step back and blinks "...Sorry, that was inappropriate. Let's just keep moving."

"No. If it's troubling you that much, I'm going to stay right here," he says deliberately, and crosses his arms. Watches the shiftiness on Barry's face, the angry heat in his eyes, with some level of confusion, "in what sense do you mean with him? In a physical sense, in which case the answer was yes, or...?"

"I _said_ ," Barry interrupts him, through gritted teeth, " _nevermind_."

"...Ah, a romantic sense," he can't help but stare for a second, spellbound. If he didn't know better, and even _knowing_ better the point is in question, he'd be tempted to call Barry's current demeanor _jealous_ , "in which case the answer becomes a little more complicated."

Barry hesitates for a second, like he's considering just shooting off without a backwards glance. But, eventually, he stays in one place - glares at him, far too riled up to be thoughtful, "a little more complicated?"

"Technically no, technically yes," he shrugs, aware that he's sounding like a dick but also aware that it's the most honest answer possible. Alternate universes, apparently complicated even in matters of the heart, "I haven't been with this universe's Hartley... But I was, briefly, with my universe's version of Hartley. And this universe's Hartley was with, in much the same way, this universe's version of me."

Barry twitches for a second, and then narrowly gets his reaction under control. Too late, as a speedster he can see and analyze every single detail of that uniquely painful expression, "did he-?"

"What did I just say?" He says levelly, mainly to watch Barry's eyes snap up to him - full of a heat that he never expected to experience from Barry's direction, but now kind of wants to drown himself in all the time, "we may have flirted a little, that was about the extent of our interaction."

"And did it mean-?" Barry chokes on the words, looks down briefly. When he glances back up, there's a bitterly mocking smirk upon his lips that he doesn't like one bit, "look at me, acting like a teenager in this sort of situation. You don't have to answer that. We should get back to the labs and stop lingering around and waiting for you to get kidnapped-"

"The only person who ever meant anything to me," he can't resist interrupting quietly, staring at Barry with the amount of hope in his body suddenly trying to _strangle_ him, "was murdered by Zoom before I got to this universe. Hartley was fine, Hartley _is_ a rather nice gentleman when he's not trying to force himself for an emo phase, but... He could never match up to that person. He could never match up to _you_ , Barry."

A long pause. Barry freezes in place, stares at him like a deer caught in the headlights - like a deer who has just realized, in sudden detail, exactly what he's been hinting at all this time.

"Barry," he starts helplessly, the potential of the moment catching him in its flow as surely as the ocean, "are you, perhaps, jeal-?"

"...We should get back to Star Labs, let everybody else know that you're safe," Barry blurts, eyes saying pretty much everything that needs to be said. And bolts away, leaving only a blur of red and the sudden crush of feelings long repressed behind him.

 

\--

 

"I'm so glad you're alive!" Jay cries cheerfully, wrapping him up in a huge bear hug yet again, "alive, and well, and... I'm totally freaking you out with all the hugging yet again, aren't I?"

"Not exactly, but I _am_ going to hold it over your head for the rest of our lives," he informs him, and barely bites down on a cackle as the man springs hastily back, "it's alright, Jay, I'm _glad_ that you show such concern for your best friend's comfort."

"We all show concern for your comfort, you goon," Joan informs him, as Jay does the decently hilarious thing and turns a shade of bright scarlet, "none of us actually want to see you get properly hurt. Although we do all kind of wish that you'd kick this kidnapping habit, it's just not very good for the heart."

"My heart or yours?" He asks wryly, keeping half an eye on where Jay is helplessly red and stuttering.

"Probably both," Caitlin informs him, looking an odd mixture of amused and annoyed that truly serves to brighten his day just that little bit further, "I mean, getting yourself kidnapped for the second time in a week after already suffering several near fatal injuries has to be bad for you. And as for us..."

"You should've _seen_ Barry's face," Cisco snorts, completely ignoring the nuance of the atmosphere in favour of glancing over to Barry - leaning against the wall, face as shut off as it was when he first arrived here, "I mean, _damn_. He didn't stop vibrating the entire time you were gone!"

"Which sounds hilarious now," Joe comments wryly, with a fond shake of his head, "but when my sofa was bearing the brunt of it..."

"You can buy a new sofa," Barry interrupts coldly, like a stone dropped into the joyous atmosphere of the room, and pushes himself up from the wall. Their eyes meet for a long, stretching moment... And then he's striding away, probably back up to his favourite brooding spot that he once sentimentally thought of as theirs, "glad you're back, Eobard, see you tomorrow."

The entire room stares after him. And then, as if on strings, slowly swivel to stare at him.

"Well," Iris, the one now standing closest to him after Jay completed his leap right across the room, says with a thoughtful crinkle between her eyebrows, "that was an unpleasant flashback to a few weeks ago."

"Barry has had a long few days," he excuses the man quietly, and narrowly resists the urge to wrap his arms around himself for comfort. He can pretend joviality, _has_ pretended such quite successfully, but the incident only serves to remind him how much of that was a lie. He's tired, and confused, and can't really stop _thinking_ about that thing akin to jealousy in Barry's eyes when they were talking about Hartley "...As have I, alas. As much as I appreciate this little party in my honour-"

"Of course," Stein allows, with a fond little bob of his head. Another one usually blind to the nuance, but on his wavelength enough that it doesn't quite matter, "I'm sure that I speak for all of us-"

"Think what you want, dude," Cisco mutters, still staring after Barry's wake with confusion in his eyes.

"-When I state that we have no wish to exhaust you further," Stein pauses for a brief glare, eventually shrugs and offers up one of his less pointed smiles, "go get some rest, doctor Thawne. We can happily resume this little meeting in the _morning_."

"You are all very kind," he mutters with a slightly forced smile, and means it. He's too distracted by thoughts of Barry, thoughts of his beauty and his jealousy and the sheer amount of passion which he does absolutely everything, to give it that much focus. But...

Friends. An odd, and curious, and surprisingly satisfying thing. 

 

\--

 

"Hey," Iris greets him with a knock at the lab door, a wry smile as he guiltily spins around to face her, "I thought you _said_ that you were going to get some rest."

"I may have fudged the truth a little," he glances back at the work he's been pouring over, briefly considers throwing some paper over it but in the end decides that such a thing might look a little suspicious. Would definitely look a little suspicious, to somebody with eyes as sharp as Iris', "a lot, I couldn't get any sleep."

"After being kidnapped twice within the space of a week by a psychopathic speedster and a merry group of costumed villains," Iris remarks pointedly, strolls over until she can lean her hip against the worktable and... Yep, there's the customary nosiness. The quick glance over his work that he should've been expecting, "yeah, why would that be tiring at all?"

"I have a lot to think about," he laughs defensively, not really minding. Iris can be as nosy as she likes, when put to the right use it's most definitely one of her charms, "seemingly a whole world of complicated things..."

"Such as Barry?" Iris gets right to the point of the matter, with an arch of her eyebrow that unveils absolutely everything that he's been trying so very hard to hide, "or... Whatever this stuff is. DNA strands?"

"Barry... Is a large part of it," he admits, and sighs at the thought. No matter how much work he buries himself under, he still can't quite forget the way that Barry ran away from him - the flash of that thing like jealousy in his eyes, just before he did so, "but, before you start worrying, this isn't his DNA. It's Zoom's."

"Zoom's DNA?" Iris asks, and stares blankly at him for a second as he nods. And then her face crumples, as if she isn't quite sure whether to start yelling or cackling, "taken from your skin after he beat you up, I presume?"

"With my belated permission, I hasten to add," he reassures her, sees her pursed mouth quirk a little further towards cackling with some feeling like warmth in his chest, "do you notice anything interesting about this strand? Anything that might, perhaps, remind you of something else?"

"...Barry's the scientist of the family," Iris says immediately, with a wave of her hands as if to ward away all responsibility, "all DNA looks pretty much the same to me, weird and blobby and kind of rotatey."

"As good a description as any, I suppose," he gives, quickly hiding his smirk behind his sleeve for fear of derailing the entire conversation, "the DNA sequence is near identical to mine."

"Which means...?" Iris stares at him for a second, puzzled. He smiles at her in return, encouraging and faintly mocking in equal measure, "wait, let me remember the high school biology lessons that I didn't sleep through. If the DNA sequence is near identical to yours, that means that you must be linked with Zoom in some way?"

" _Exactly_ ," He beams at her, resists the entirely dickish urge to clap his hands at her small triumph, "we'll make a scientist of you yet, Ms West."

"Linked with Zoom in a close way, linked with Zoom like you're somehow..." And he's glad that he didn't. Because, just as he bounces in his chair, Iris' expression goes frozen - her eyes wide, as if a realization has just hit her with the force of a speeding bullet, "related."

"That's Caitlin's theory, yes. That he's my ancestor, who is apparently extremely dedicated to fucking up my entire life," he frowns at her, rises to his feet slowly. He may be a dick, but Iris is his friend and that expression reminds him far too much of the one she was wearing when they first met, "are you alright? Do you need to sit down properly? Can I get you-?"

"I'm fine," she whispers, interrupting him. Then shakes her head, and forces a smile - the sudden numbness vanishing behind something that's almost more painful, "I just... Potentially thought of something. You said Barry was a problem too?"

"Well, I wouldn't exactly call him a _problem_ ," he allows, somewhat surprised by the sudden change in the conversation. It's practically whiplash inducing, even for somebody like him, "a confusion, perhaps. A puzzle, often. A frustration, sometimes, but... Look, Iris, are you sure-?"

"If there's anything that my time associating with the Star Labs team has taught me, it's that you're not going to stop being confused if you just sit in one place and watch the world pass by," Iris informs him. And her voice is strong, her smile seems genuine in a way that he'd almost believe if he hadn't watched the numb shock spread across her face just a few minutes ago, "he's sitting where he was last time, brooding over the city like his usual idiotic self. You should go talk to him."

"Iris..." He says warily, unable to stop staring at her like she's about to explode right in his face.

" _Go_ ," she orders him, and briefly allows her smile to crumble - to show the pain underneath, the sudden ache that hits him like that old knife of grief to the heart, "I'll tell you what this is all about when I've thought about it a bit, alright? But for now... Just go, try and be as happy as you can."

Her voice is final. He hesitates for a second, and then briefly presses a sympathetic hand to her shoulder and follows her instructions as quickly as he can.

 

\--

 

Barry is, indeed, sitting in 'their' place - his beauty contrasted against the backdrop of the city, his hair haloed around his head like he's an angel. For a moment he just has to stop and stare, appreciating the curve of his back and the sheer gracefulness of his every movement. Barry Allen is somebody special, and he will cheerfully fight anybody who tries to deny it.

...Heh, look at his eternal violence. This is not the time for fighting, and he should not tempt fate. Instead he squares his shoulders, jogs up the final few inches until they're side by side, "hello there."

Barry glances at him sharply, shocked. But then, to his surprise, slowly starts to smile - timider than he would like, but still most definitely there, "hey yourself. I thought you were resting?"

"I couldn't sleep," he admits. And, when Barry still fails to sprint away from him at top speed, slowly lowers himself down - takes a seat besides the boy, all the better to appreciate the sheer beauty of his profile, "I was too busy thinking about things. Which is an emotion that you may well be familiar with."

"Overly so, since I became the Flash," Barry admits, and offers him an even more genuine smile. Like they're bonding, like they actually have something in _common_ "...Look, I'm sorry for how I behaved earlier."

"Haven't we already been over this?" He asks wryly, somewhat embarrassed at the way his breath catches hard in his throat, "you apologized, I forgave you. Short of seeking out Hartley..."

"You had just got out of captivity and were looking for a friendly face, I acted like an immature dick and put my emotions above your own," Barry interrupts him levelly, but he can't help but notice the almost hidden twitch at the mention of Hartley, "we could stand to go over it a few more times, is all I'm saying."

"With you apologizing abjectly every single one?" He sighs, but is somewhat touched. People rarely apologize to him, and it wasn't exactly something that he was missing but... It feels somewhat nice, nonetheless, "I'm pretty sure that we've also had this discussion."

"Perhaps that should just be the way we interact now, endlessly repeating history," Barry chuckles, and then pauses for a second. Bites his lip, in a show of thought so attractive that any lesser person would swoon immediately, "or, y'know, not. Can I ask you something, Eobard, while we're here?"

Barry's tone is timid, and suddenly there's a sense of expectation in the air as vivid as a hand against his skin. He summons his least dickish smile, nods encouragingly, "any questions would certainly be better than repeating history."

"You haven't heard my question yet," Barry informs him, continues to bite his lip ever so... Encouragingly, "you've hinted a lot, because apparently you like being mysterious no matter what version of yourself you are, _but_. Um, what was your relationship with your universe's Barry Allen actually like?"

He stares for a second, stunned despite himself. The possibility in the air grows and grows, until it's wrapped around him like a blanket.

"...That was out of line again. Sorry, you don't have to-"

"I didn't expect it, but it wasn't out of line. I just thought that you'd start by asking for more detail on Hartley," he interrupts hastily, and briefly glances out at the city for a moment. Tries to gather himself, centre himself, keep the intensity always boiling so near the surface to the minimum- "my universe's version of Barry Allen was my everything."

Playing it cool has always been rather overrated.

"O-oh," Barry's eyes have gone wide. But not, he most certainly hopes he's not mistaken, terrified, "you were... Together, then?"

"We were lovers, yes," he provides, can't quite resist the flair. Not with the memory of the first Barry so immediate, not with the second Barry sitting so close and looking at him with such odd heat in his eyes, "and... I loved him. I think he loved me too, but we never actually had the time to confirm that properly."

Barry tilts his head, and the wash of sympathy over his face is enough to be a dagger in his heart, "because something happened to him before you could?"

"Zoom murdered him," he confirms, and feels his tongue go leaden in his mouth even as he says the words. That old grief, never far away from his heart, "and so I never got to tell him what he meant to me. How special he was, how much I cared no matter what cool indifference I pretended. I never got to tell him how seeing him was my favourite part of every day, how his brain could solve any problem, how his hair was as soft as silk and how he made the entirety of the dirty rotten universe worth facing."

Barry stares at him silently. Eyes gone wide, expression gone something close to molten.

"...And now I never will."

"Is that why you came here?" Barry asks quietly, that hot expression still on his face - heart in his eyes so surely that he half feels like weeping over it, "so that you could find me, and tell me those things?"

"Perhaps, partially," he sighs, shakes his head. The hope is in his throat, fisting hard enough to choke, "to tell you that I loved you, to see that some part of my Barry was still alive, to stop Zoom from taking another Barry right out of the multiverse... It sounds odd, doesn't it, how much thought I put into it. How much care. How much investment, for something-"

"No," Barry says, and actually reaches out - places one warm hand over his with an amount of care that leaves him breathless, "if I had thought to cross universes, after my Eobard Thawne died, I would've done so in a heartbeat. To ask him _why_ , to tell him that I forgave him no matter how messed up it was, to just see him for one more time. To tell him that... I loved him too, and always would no matter what he did to me."

"Barry," he starts breathlessly, and has absolutely no clue where to go from there. Barry is so very close, and so very warm. His eyelashes are long, his eyes are deep, and the breath from his lips is so soft...

"So maybe we're both messed up," Barry concludes, with a sharp little smile. Places one hand on the side of his head, and slowly leans in, "and maybe, just maybe, that's-" 

He doesn't get to finish.

He doesn't get to finish, because suddenly there's a malevolent energy in the air. A sudden flash of blue, deadlier than any knife. He blinks, and suddenly Barry is gone and he's thrown back on his elbows with pain radiating up through his chest. He jumps to his feet, gasps helplessly for air-

And there, across the rooftop, stands Zoom. Holding Barry by the throat, staring at him with head tilted and amusement palpable.

"No," he gasps, thoughts of entering his apartment to find Barry dead flashing violently through his mind, and takes a stumbling step forwards, " _no_ , please-"

"I will kill all the speedsters," Zoom purrs, and shakes Barry like a ragdoll. Eyes still fixed, so very _arrogantly_ , right on him, "on all the worlds. And you will regret ever trying to defy the might of Zoom."

And then he's gone, in an explosion of blue light. And Barry is gone with him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry for the slight delay, guys! Things got a little busy yesterday, and I found myself unable to post. Hopefully it's still Wednesday for at least some of you...


	14. Chapter 14

He races downstairs as fast as he can go, things sent flying in his wake. Chairs, papers, old scientific equipment, dust flying up in dramatic clouds. He doesn't bother to look back, doesn't bother to appreciate the picture that he must be making. The only thing that matters is Barry. Barry in Zoom's hands, Barry injured, Barry close to _death_ -

...Barry, who he loves in this universe just as much as he did in the other.

He shoots into the control room at top speed, has to dart through and around again just to be able to come to a stop. He catches wide eyes, confused faces, Caitlin's hair blowing in the breeze. And then he grinds to a halt, stands panting in the middle with every single part of him on high alert.

"Eobard?" Jay, of course, is the first one to react. Takes a few slow steps towards him, his forehead creased and concern so obvious in his expression that it's almost touching, "are you alright? I thought-"

"That you were _supposed_ to be resting," Caitlin finishes for him, coming around the computer console with her face wrinkled up in displeasure, "honestly, after the Rogues incident I'm half considering chaining you to the bed. What on earth do you think you're-?"

"Barry," he gulps, and is surprised to find himself breathless. The entire room freezes in the wake of his words, a mixture of confusion and fear on every single face, "Zoom grabbed him, took off with him. Has him now."

"Zoom was here?" Cisco asks, wide eyed and glancing around as if the nightmare is about to shoot through the wall at any moment.

"Zoom has _Barry_?" A voice interrupts from the door, and suddenly Joe is striding into the room. Coat dropped, utterly forgotten, on the floor behind him, "what the hell happened? Where the hell did he go?"

"We were sitting on the roof, talking, and-" He gulps again, still gasping for air. Finds himself slowly slumping into a crouch on the floor, the guilt and fear and _love_ pounding through him like the wildest drug imaginable, "Zoom just appeared, just _took_ him. I couldn't do anything about it. I wasn't fast enough."

"Eobard..." Jay starts warily from his side, reaching a soothing hand out to him as Joan hovers worriedly at his elbow, "there was nothing-"

"I wasn't fast enough," he repeats, ignoring him, and buries his face in his hands. You never get used to fear, he's starting to realize. It's always going to bowl him over, to take everybody he loves away from him and leave ashes in his wake, "and because of _me_ Barry is now in danger."

A long pause, as the rest of the room doubtlessly...

"That's bullshit," Iris' voice says loudly, and suddenly she's crouching in front of him and firmly yanking his hands away from his face. Her expression is determined, a hard thing that would almost reassure him if it wasn't for... Well. _Well_ , "you did all that you could, and we are _not_ going to lose Barry. Firestorm, fly over the city and see if you can spot anything. Jay, do the same by foot, Cisco you check-"

"The computers, to see if I can track him," Cisco finishes for her, already ducking back behind the console with a firm light in his eyes, "not sure if the algorithm I prepared will work yet, but if there's a time to try it..."

"We'll get the medical centre prepped," Joan says, as Jay and the two halves of Firestorm nod and quickly start heading for the exit, "for when you bring him back _alive_. Don't worry, you've got the best doctor on this earth and the best nurse on _any_ earth here to help you out. There's no way Barry's gonna be in danger for long."

"I-" he breathes, stunned, but the entire world is already moving around him at top speed. Caitlin and Joan striding into the medical centre, Cisco sitting behind the computer desk, Firestorm already coming into being on the monitors as Jay runs off after him, Joe already yelling into his police radio to summon as many officers as possible after the spectre of Zoom.

"It's alright," Iris interrupts him immediately. Offers a wan smile, and wraps her arms around him in a show of friendship that he appreciates more than he can say, "we'll get him back, Eobard. Believe in that."

 

\--

 

Several hours later, the sun set and the world in darkness, and _still_ no leads have presented themselves. They're in much the same state that they were earlier, held in breathless suspension with little idea of what is actually going on. Of what Zoom plans to do. Of whether Barry, _his_ Barry, is alive or dead.

...It's nerve wracking, at best.

He sits back against the wall, a cup of long cold tea in his hands, and watches the room wearily. Joe, Jay and the combined Firestorm are still out combing the streets. Joan and Caitlin have come from preparing the medical centre to sit behind the console with tired eyes. Cisco is still tapping at his computers, desperately trying to find a link. And Iris-

Iris, bless her, is still on her feet. Striding back and forth, determination fierce in her eyes, "are we _sure_ that nobody has seen any sign of them?"

"Absolutely sure," Cisco sighs, rubbing a hand over his face like he's been asking himself that same question for hours now. They're all worn out and stressed as hell, it's a feature of the situation, "Firestorm is hovering over the suburbs, and has so far seen no sign of any speedsters there. Jay is canvassing downtown and, despite multiple reactions to various neon lights, hasn't seen Zoom's particular shade of freaky blue. And as for my algorithm..."

"Is it working?" Joan asks, rubbing at her eyes with a scowl. As concerned for Jay as he is for Barry.

"Sort of," Cisco sighs, taps frustratedly at a screen. Hard enough that Caitlin, after a moment, reaches across to grab his hand with a sigh "...It's tracking things, yeah, but not Zoom. That guy is, somehow, just too fast. I can't catch a single glimpse of him."

"So he could be anywhere?" He finally speaks, and is surprised to find that it's apparently been so long that his throat is faintly ragged. Every eye in the room whips to him, concerned in a way that would touch his heart at literally any other time, "anywhere at all, and we have no way to get to him."

"Well, he probably hasn't jogged his way to Mars. But..." Cisco sighs, as Iris and Joan both turn back to glare at him. Tries to tap the screen again, but when confronted with Caitlin's restraining hand just sits back in his seat and pouts, "that's basically it, yeah. Unless Joe and his cop squad catch a glimpse of him, which is unlikely at best, we're up shit creek without a paddle."

"Don't say that," Caitlin is the first one to speak this time. Probably for the best, as she only looks tired as opposed to Iris and Joan's briefly furious, "there's always hope. Didn't your cameras catch a brief flash of blue, about an hour back?"

An hour back, when Iris forced the tea upon him and he was briefly distracted from his focused misery.

"Well, yeah. But-"

An hour. An eternity in speedster terms, but he'll take what he can get. He places his mug on the floor, hard enough to produce a clatter. Jumps up to his feet, and strides to Iris' side before anybody else can do more than blink, "where was this blue flash?"

"Uh, down in the warehouse district. Between the warehouses owned by Simon Stagg and Kelson Vibber," Cisco blinks for a second. And then, very slowly, starts to frown at him like he knows what he's planning, "it's by no means a sure thing, though. I mean, it really just looked like a lens flash or something-"

"It's still worth checking," he disagrees, already practically vibrating in his skin. Sick of waiting, sick of being able to do _nothing_ yet again, "don't you agree?"

"Wait," Caitlin protests, as Iris gives a slow nod and Joan gives him a fiercely encouraging smile, "you've barely rested. You were kidnapped by the rogues less than a day ago, you were almost killed by Zoom less than a _week_ ago. If you think that I'm letting you go out there again-"

"You're not _letting_ me do anything, doctor Snow," he informs her, as kindly as he can with the fear gnawing its way steadily under his skin, "I do this of my own volition. It's better than sitting around and doing nothing, just waiting for the Black Racer to arrive."

Caitlin has already opened her mouth again, anger in her eyes, but Iris pats him encouragingly on the shoulder and it's enough. Before anybody can speak again he's already away, off to find Barry Allen no matter what dark and shadowy obstacles try to stand between them.

 

\--

 

When he gets there the area between the warehouses is completely empty, and he didn't know what the hell else he expected. He pauses for a second, vibrating with rage and fear and so many other conflicting emotions that they pulse through him like a poison, and then darts off again. Does several quick sweeps of the area, around and around like _that's_ going to change anything.

On the third circuit he hears a slow, mocking clap. Grinds to a helpless halt, the fear in his stomach enough to sicken him.

Zoom is standing on top of one of the warehouses. Casually, as if he terrifies people from great heights all the damn time. His face is still covered, his entire body is just a distant and nightmarish blur, but somehow he gets the impression that the man is amused. It would be true to form, after all. Being a dick apparently runs in the Thawne blood.

"Do I entertain you?" He snarls, frustration exploding out of him in a raw push. Because he's tired, so _very_ tired, of this creature waiting in the shadows of his every nightmare just to screw him over again and again, "does it _please_ you to see me lose my mind?"

A long pause, as Zoom stares down at him with quiet amusement... And then a soft chuckle, an abrasive sound splitting the air somehow worse than all the silence, "I think you already know the answer to that."

"So you'll actually talk to me now, as opposed to just spouting vague threats and incredibly annoying prophecies?" he draws in a low breath, aware that all of his attempts at purring superiority fall unsurprisingly flat. As it turns out, it's rather hard to be cool when you face the threat of losing everything dear to you yet _again_ , "where is Barry?"

Zoom only chuckles again, shakes his head like the very question is foolish. He has to admit, it is... _Exceptionally_ annoying to be on the receiving end of such a thing, "where you'll never find him."

"What have you done to him?" He asks, leaving any attempt at sense behind in favour of his rage. His anger, his wrath, his fear immediate enough to be a collar around his neck, "what do you even _want_? You keep killing people, you keep fucking up the lives of literally everybody you come across, and I just don't understand what-"

"Your understanding is meaningless to me," Zoom informs him. So superior, so _smug_. He just wants to shoot right up that building at his very top speed and- "we've covered this, I want to kill all the speedsters in all the worlds and gain their energy. You can't blame me for wanting to have a little fun along the way, can you?"

"A little..." He gulps, driving force of the rage suddenly sapped from him, and glances away. Suddenly the only thing left is the little boy that's always been there deep inside, the one that only wants to be far away enough so that nobody can ever hurt him again, "you're related to me, we have the same blood. How can you be like this?"

"Oh, my dear however many greats grandson," Zoom purrs, and snorts, and allows his ever so smug amusement to fill the air so surely that it's like a fist right in the middle of his gut, "I'm afraid that you've just answered your own question. Haven't the Thawnes _always_ been like this?"

And three things happen at once, very suddenly. Jay grinds to a halt besides him, eyes blazing and hands clenched into fierce fists. Zoom jumps off the building, becomes a cackling flash of blue in the night that neither of them can possibly catch up with. And he remains rooted on the spot, staring at the space where his however many greats grandfather just stood and feeling the sting of true misery sudden and deep within his soul.

 

\--

 

"That," Jay says very deliberately, glaring at him like he's committed a capital offence, "was dumb."

"What?" He asks a touch numbly, still staring at the spot where Zoom was standing in all his nightmarish glory, "thinking that I could reason with a mass murdering speedster? Or thinking that I was in any way capable of saving Barry?"

"No, I didn't-" Jay lets out a gusty sigh, places two firm hands upon his shoulder and turns him until they're both looking at each other, "I didn't mean that. I _meant_ that you need to stop running off on your own."

He tries for a smile, it immediately burns his lips so badly that he settles for a wince instead, "worried about me, Garrick?"

"Shouldn't I be?" Jay stares at him deliberately, keeps ahold of his shoulders. He'd be touched by the amount of concern there, he really _would_ , but the ever rolling fear kind of pushes any such tender emotions right out of the window, "I know you like to mock, Eobard, but... I am your friend. I do want the best for you. I don't want to see you get _hurt_."

"Hm," he says, and learns from his mistakes. Heads straight for the wince this time, as opposed to wasting his breath on fake smiles, "have you ever considered that you should?"

"Eobard."

"I mean, I am kind of a shit after all," he takes in a deep breath. He sold his tear ducts to the devil long ago, but if he hadn't he's pretty sure that this kind of situation would prickle just a little, "all the Thawnes are, it's kind of in our blood. I'm a shit and a villain and I certainly don't deserve any of your-"

" _Eobard_ ," Jay interrupts him again, actually tightens his grip until the brief spurt of pain causes him to pay attention. My, he never knew that the man had it in him, "you are none of those things. You're sometimes a jerk, but you're also sometimes kind as heck. You were a villain, but you've spent the past few months performing acts of heroism that would get you onto the Justice Society instantly. And as for not deserving anything... Eobard, you deserve just as much kindness and trust and support as _any_ person on this earth."

He stares for a second, silently. And maybe he was wrong about the whole tear ducts thing, because suddenly that prickle is back with an insistence that is almost _painful_ , "I lost Barry."

"You didn't lose Barry," Jay corrects him, eyes firm in that very particular way that he's always thought of as like a father. A proper father, not the various sad excuses for ones that he's met at various points throughout his life, "Zoom _took_ Barry. And there's no way that we're not getting him back."

"But what if we can't?" He asks. And finally voicing that fear, finally voicing that lurking nightmare that has been torturing him since Barry was taken, flays his throat raw, "what if I've lost him, and we never get him back, and he ends up dead again, and it's all my-"

"Breathe. Keep your eyes on me, and just _breathe_ ," Jay interrupts him, and stares steadily at him until he actually follows the instructions. Calms down, enough to make his head no longer feel like it's full of furious wasps, "you're in love with him. And I know how hard it is when somebody you love is in danger, I _know_ , but you have to believe me. We're going to find him, we're going to get him back, we're going to defeat Zoom and everything is going to be _great_."

"Ever the optimist, Garrick," he offers wryly, but hopes that his gratefulness comes through underneath. Judging by the brief smile that flashes across Jay's face, it has a high chance of doing so "...Am I that obvious, in my regard for Barry?"

"Even now that Joe has warmed up to you, he's still considering buying a pitchfork," Jay laughs, obviously relieved, and releases his shoulders, "come on, let's get back to Star Labs. The warm will do you good."

Jay darts off, and he lingers for a second. Preparing to follow, but with his eyes still fixed speculatively on the roof where Zoom stood. The fear is still there, simmering underneath - but now that it's quieted he finds that he can think a little more clearly, muse a little less chaotically, plan...

Plan. Because god help Zoom, now that he's tried to take two Barry Allens away from him. He nods to himself, firmly. Turns on his heel and darts away.

 

\--

 

"You're alive," Caitlin sighs, hand pressed to her chest in relief as they come shooting in through the door, "thank _god_. If Zoom had killed you I would've had to find some way to resurrect you so I could kill you again myself."

"I'm fine, doctor Snow," he reassures her with a mildly apologetic look. Only mildly, though. He wouldn't want anybody to think that he was losing his edge, "I have, however, still failed to get Barry back."

"Same as the rest of us, dude," Cisco informs him, also giving him a look of muted relief. One that is, quite thankfully, far less likely to verge into a work of Gothic Horror than Caitlin's, "in case you haven't noticed, none of us have exactly managed to be big damn heroes today."

"We're getting there," Iris contradicts, striding over to give him a supportive clap on the shoulder and a firm look, "we're making progress. We can't give up now, not when we're so close."

"I know, but..." Cisco sighs, sits back in his chair and rubs his eyes. He sees Iris twitch a little, probably considering forcing another group cup of tea upon the room, "we all have to admit that it's a little impossible, right? I mean, this guy is just too hard to track. He's incredibly fast, worryingly chaotic and we barely know enough about his patterns to even make an attempt. It's not hopeless, but-"

"It's not hopeless," Joan interrupts him, reaching out to give a reprimanding tap to the back of his hand, "just finish there, no need to go any further."

"Would it help," Iris says in much the same tone, a thoughtful expression that can be described as worrying as best, "if we knew a little more about him?"

"Well," Caitlin starts slowly, giving Iris an equally worried look. He wonders, briefly, just how much sleep she's been getting lately. Maybe as much as him, judging by the wary way everybody is watching her, "yeah, of course. But I'm not sure how much more we can do. The tests take _time_ , Iris, and-"

"We don't have a lot of it, I know," Iris nods, sighs a little. They could all use a little rest. A pity, that they're unlikely to get it any time soon, "but what if I told you that I have a pretty strong theory as to who Zoom is?"

A long pause. Everybody glances at each other slowly, a mixture of curious and worried.

"It's not like it can do any harm," Joan says eventually, folding her fingers under her chin in much the manner of a professor posing a complicated problem to the class, "I say shoot."

And Iris takes a deep breath, and Iris bites her lip for a second in hesitation, and Iris quickly shakes her head and eventually just decides to _go_ for it with the determination that he so admires in her most of the time, "I think it's Eddie."

"...Uh," Cisco is the first to recover, from the collective freezing of the room at _that_ bombshell, "Iris, I hate to say this. But Eddie _died_ several months back. We were all there, he's gone."

"So was Ronnie," he reminds the room musingly, experiences a brief flash of amusement - heh, he didn't know that he could feel that in the aftermath of Barry being taken from him yet again, "but I don't think that's what she means, mr Ramon. I think what she's actually saying..."

"Is that it's the earth 2 version of Eddie," Iris finishes for him, gives him a mildly amused glance even through all of her worry, "I can explain for myself, I am a journalist. I think, just as Eobard was a villain on this world and a nice guy on the other, that earth 2 Eddie might just be a bad guy. I think that he's the one that's taken Barry, and I think that he might be the person who's been threatening us all this time."

"Iris..." Caitlin starts slowly. Halts before she can say anything else, bites her lip and looks reluctantly thoughtful.

"While I'm sure certain people would quibble with the nice guy assessment..." Joan glances briefly at him, gives a sharp smile as she registers his probably entirely too obvious shock, "Iris' theory does make sense. Isn't Eddie apparently related to our dear Eobard here? And wasn't this world's Eddie the distant ancestor of this world's Eobard Thawne?"

"I talk with my wife," Jay offers defensively, as Caitlin glances briefly at him, "and, for the record, I agree that it makes sense. And also agree that my universe's Eobard _is_ a nice guy."

"So, Zoom may well be Eddie," Cisco muses, as he marvels over the numerous inaccurate opinions contained within the universe, "great, wonderful, we now _may_ know a little more about him. But do we actually know how to fix our current problem?"

A long, thoughtful silence ensues. Joan keeps her fingers folded, Jay shifts on his feet, Caitlin frowns as Iris sighs...

"Are we sure that Joe is still out on patrol?" He steps into the gap, manages his first proper smirk of the day as Cisco slowly nods and Iris turns a speculative eye in his direction, "good, because I may just have a rather Roguish idea..."


	15. Chapter 15

He's mildly amused to find that the Rogues, despite their long experience with all possible kinds of thievery, take their own security rather laxly. It takes roughly a minute to sprint over to their base, five seconds to get through all of their half hearted defences and into the main room yet again.

...Where all of them are gathered, busying themselves with several less than legal practices. There's a moment, a moment that'd be hilarious at any other time, where they all glance at him casually and return to their business. And then all of them shoot up as one, stare at him with wide eyes and hands already scrambling for weapons.

"Eobard!" Hartley is the first one to get it. And, to his mild gratitude, gently reaches out with both hands to lower Mick's gun on one side and Axel's bizarrely improvised weapon on the other, "is this a sudden social visit, or...?"

And he would cheerfully indulge in the banter, he really would. But somewhere Zoom has Barry in his clutches, and it's really very hard to focus on anything else when the anxiety over that is thrumming so helplessly in his head, "I need your help."

"Hm," Snart offers, with a speculative tilt of his head that he supposes to be mildly intimidating. He doesn't mean to put the man down, he really doesn't. But when you've faced your own nightmares several times over such a thing starts to look positively welcoming in comparison, "you are aware, doctor Thawne, that we are _Rogues_ and not some superhero related HR department?"

"Well, you're actually competent, so yes," he allows himself to smile briefly, soon feels it drop off his lips like ashes. It's hard to think, it's hard to smile... He supposes he should be glad that it's not hard to run, "Are any of you aware of Zoom?"

He watches, with some fascination, as half of the room flinches and half of the room looks cagily at each other.

"He's..." Lisa is the first one to speak, glancing at her brother with her forehead wrinkled and her eyes thoughtful, "been around, yes. It's kinda hard to miss a black and blue blur who looks like every nightmare you've ever been unfortunate enough to remember."

"You've seen him too?" Mick grunts, still recovering from his full body shudder, "is that what this is about?"

"Zoom has, to my deep and lasting regret, managed to kidnap somebody that we're all very familiar with. The Flash," he takes in a deep breath, his stomach sinking at those words. Raises his shoulders, reminds himself of who he is and _forces_ himself to carry on, "none of our plans, as carefully plotted as they've all been, have succeeded in getting him back. We need your help to do so."

A long silence settles over the room. All of the Rogues obviously thinking, still glancing at each other as if waiting to see who the first one to twitch will be.

"Yeah, but why should we help?" It turns out to be Axel, scowling in a way that is less defiant and more reluctantly thoughtful, "I mean, Zoom is bad news but Bar- the Flash is hardly on our side either. Why shouldn't we let two birds be killed with one stone? Even if he does have a nice ass..."

"I'm not exactly fond of some of the Flash's actions myself," Hartley is the next one to speak, still staring straight at him with deep thought wrinkling his brow, "but the man himself is a nice enough guy. He doesn't deserve to die, not at the hands of a creature as terrifying as Zoom."

"He's kind," Lisa agrees quietly, still glancing at her brother with a focus that he's glad that he's not at the end of, "and sweet, and actually tried to help me when I came to him with my... Family problems. He can sometimes be hella annoying, sure. But if we left all hella annoying people to monsters then there'd pretty much be nobody left."

"I can't believe we're even considering this," Mark snaps, but he has the feeling that it's rather half hearted. The man has the expression of somebody who is trying very sincerely to be angry, but who can't stop thinking for long enough to let it happen, "this guy has put us all in prison, has ruined more of our plans than I can count. We should be _pleased_ that somebody has decided to take him out."

"I've never been pleased by anything in my life," Snart informs him, and continues - much like Hartley - to look in his direction. Obviously gauging the twitchiness of his movements, the desperation probably written right across his face, "and certainly not anything relating to the Flash."

"...Will we get to meet Firestorm in person if we go?" Mick asks hopefully, stares at him until he manages an only slightly nervous nod, "then _that's_ worth the effort all by itself."

"Mick," Mark snarls, wearing the expression of somebody reaching the end of the last thread of his last rope, "for fuck's-"

"And the Flash is a good kid," but Mick interrupts him, with surprising seriousness. Raises his chin, and gives the rest of the room a thoughtful look, "who always tries to do his best by us, even if it often doesn't seem like it. We could have worse heroes running after us, is all I'm saying, and if we let Ba- the kid die..."

"They could well come in force, tumbling over themselves with wicked glee and ruining Central City forevermore," Snart says speculatively, and pauses for a moment as the rest of the room seem to think that through. A deep breath, and then he turns back to him with a faint smile on his lips and determination in his eyes, "Could you give us a minute, perhaps? It seems like me and my team need to hold a _vote_."

 

\--

 

" _This_ was your plan?" Joe asks incredulously, "asking a bunch of psychopathic criminals to help? _Seriously_?"

"Careful," Snart, probably looking the most comfortable of the massed Rogues with this situation, purrs as everybody else shifts around him, "you keep throwing around big words like that, and we're going to have to start assuming that you have a psychology degree."

"It's hardly like _we_ want to be here either," Mark snarls from besides him. Looking, in contrast, probably the Rogue most uncomfortable with the situation. It's not like he obviously doesn't want to be there, but he does seem to be insistent on eyeing up Joe with a quite tiring mix of rage and wariness, "but we don't want B... I mean, we don't want to disrespect democracy. So here we are."

"Your respect for due political process is admirable, and we thank you for it," he purrs, as the Rogues - with the singular exception of Mick Rory, who is standing in between the smiling Ronnie and the thoughtful looking Stein - all twist to stare at Mark with incredulous expressions, "perhaps it would assuage Joe's justifiable concerns if we explained our position further?"

"Most of our concerns are already assuaged," Iris offers, with a stern and silencing glance at her father, "but it might be a good idea to establish a few things, yeah. Do you believe you can help us?"

"Darling," Lisa purrs, smirking at her with a certain somewhat dangerous light in her eyes, "we can do more than _help_ you."

"...And what does that mean?"

"We spend most of our days dealing with dangerous and unsavoury characters," Hartley provides, finally dragging himself away from warily watching Caitlin and Cisco behind the computer console, "we know how their minds work, and how to deal with them."

"Even somebody as nightmarish as Zoom?" Cisco asks, still staring at Hartley with that faintly offended expression openly across his face.

" _Especially_ somebody as nightmarish as Zoom!" Axel declares, obviously wanting to contribute to the conversation.

"...Well, I wouldn't go that far," but, unfortunately for at least Axel, Snart is obviously the one who holds the most power out of the motley gathering. He sighs, steps forward and draws every eye to him naturally, "but we have a chance. Which is, if you'll forgive me for saying so, significantly more than what you've got at the moment."

"We know what Zoom is, we know what he's capable of and we may know some of how he thinks," Hartley takes over, with a competitive glance in Cisco's direction that provokes a helpless roll of the eyes, "we already have some ideas of how to find him, and how to stop him."

"And how do we know we can trust you?" Caitlin finally asks, eyes narrow and slightly thoughtful as she takes all of them in, "the last time we asked you for help you screwed us all over, multiple times and in multiple ways. How can we trust that you won't do the same this time, except with Zoom as the centre of your evil plot?"

"Have you ever met Zoom?" Lisa wrinkles up her nose, shakes her head hard enough that her curls bounce, " _nothing_ is worth working with that thing."

"What my sister means to say is that you can't really trust us, and it would be frankly unwise to do so," Snart takes over, with an amused glance in Lisa's direction, "but you have to believe that none of us actually wish to see the Flash dead. Harmed, sure. A little maimed, _great_. Actually dead... Well, it'd just be bad for _business_. As long as Zoom is around, and-"

"We get to work with Firestorm," Mick inserts, still staring dreamily between Ronnie and Stein.

"-the _Man in Red's_ life is in danger you have nothing to worry about from us," Snart finishes deliberately, rolls his eyes as Ronnie's smile obviously grows wider, "and, in fact, you have a hell of a lot to gain."

A long pause, as that knowledge settles in.

...And then Iris, slowly and thoughtfully, glances to where he's standing between the two groups. Smiles at him, like he has an opinion that she can trust, "do you believe them?"

It means more than he ever thought it would. He smiles, as best as he can with the weight of the whole wide world and more hanging over his head, and nods, "they're criminals, yes, but none of them got this far by being stupid. Even their world is a better place with the Flash in it, and as long as they recognize that we have little to worry about from their end."

Another pause. And then Iris, slowly but ever so surely, starts to smile.

 

\--

 

"So," he says, grinding to a halt in the middle of the warehouse distract. Snart scowling slightly in his arms at the expected burst of speed, "the plan is simple, then?"

"As simple as any of my plans," Snart purrs, and shrugs his arm off. Staggers only a little, unnoticeable to anybody without the gift of the Speedforce, as he takes a few steps away to glance around the area, "perhaps simpler. It'll succeed, Thawne, you should have no worries in that regard."

"I- that's easier said than done, considering the situation," he admits, watches an almost sympathetic smirk flicker across Snart's face before he turns back with cool expression firmly in place, "you're that sure it'll work?"

" _Positive_ ," Snart drawls, with an arrogant little tilt of his head. Somehow, he doesn't exactly doubt the man, "I've always had a high success rate in these type of negotiations. Don't fear, your young love will soon be back in your arms and you can get back to denying your sweet little feelings for each other with all due speed."

"He doesn't-" he sighs, as another smirk crosses Snart's face. Shakes his head, resigned in a way that would be almost amused if such an emotion wasn't currently like swimming his way through molasses, "you know what, I'm not going to argue with you. I'm just going to reiterate that Zoom is dangerous, and unpredictable, and dealing with him contains an inherent level of risk for everybody involved."

"So does dealing with me," Snart informs him, actual amusement flashing in his eyes. The urge to comment on his amount of edginess is quite obviously clear, but luckily the man manages to resist it, "I've made a career out of dealing with dangerous people and being a dangerous person. Things are unlikely to go wrong."

"But if they do..."

"And to think, I liked you because you seemed like an _optimist_ ," Snart drawls, shakes his head mockingly. But, oddly enough, not too mockingly. Like he understands the importance of the situation, and wants it to go well almost as much as he does, "look, I'm not denying that this entire plan contains an element of risk. But, as with most things I do, the benefits outweigh those risks. If we fail I - and, by extension, _we_ \- run the risk of a horrible death at the hands of a monster with superspeed. If we _succeed_..."

"We get Barry back," he nods. And, in the end, that's the core of it. He would risk anything, face any fear, just to stop another Barry from facing the same fate, "fine, Mr Snart, I shall trust your cunning. I just hope that you're as good at pretending to switch sides as you say you are."

"Don't worry," Snart chuckles, cocks his gun, "you might just say that it's a _hobby_ of mine."

 

\--

 

Zoom takes a while to appear. Zoom, in fact, takes several hours to appear. He has enough time to go back and forth and fetch all the Rogues. He has enough time to help them get into back-up positions, watching over Snart just in case things go very quickly wrong. He has enough time to hunker down besides Lisa, go into hiding himself. It seems, quite frankly, that he has enough time to run around the universe and _more_.

"Zoom!" Snart calls from below, strolling back and forth with a casualness that he's somewhat disbelieving of considering their current situation, "are you around at all? I just want to _chat_."

At the same time, Lisa's elbow makes contact with one of his ribs in the most pointed way possible, " _stop_ it."

"Stop looking at your brother?" He asks absently, glancing at her for only a briefly offended moment before getting back to carefully looking out for any sign of Zoom, "or stop sitting here peacefully? You'll forgive me for my confusion, I _thought_ I was sticking to the plan."

"Sticking to the plan which involves rescuing Ba- the Flash and keeping my brother out of danger, right?" Lisa says deliberately, and elbows him again. Softer this time, more sure of his continued attention, "and how well do you think you're going to be able to manage that, if you're as tense as this when the big bad Zoom arrives?"

A long pause.

He turns to glance at her slowly, pausing for thought in a way that seems completely at odds to the current chaos in his head, "this is a stressful situation. Am I not allowed to be a little tense?"

"A little tense, sure," Lisa shrugs, stares at him like she's not at all impressed. Wearing that expression, she reminds him somewhat of Iris. He half wonders if he should introduce them properly, and thus herald the end of the world, "but, from all your boasting, I got the impression that you were a professional. And professionals can't _afford_ to be as tense as you are."

"But what if-?"

"I don't give a shit about your worries," Lisa says frankly, pokes him in the ribs again. With a spurt of speed that is extra impressive, for somebody with only a gold gun and a hell of a lot of attitude, "the only thing I give a shit about, in this situation, is my brother preparing to face a monster just because you asked him to. So you better shape up, because if you don't..."

"I'll have to ship out instead," he sighs, and smirks at her to let her know that that's the nicest euphemism he can think of. With what little knowledge he has of Lisa he thinks that it's far more likely that she'd just shoot him with her gun and wash her hands of him completely "...My apologies. You are, of course, right. I need to get my head in the game. It's just hard, when the game seems so utterly _reluctant_ to come to us."

"Don't I know it," Lisa huffs, almost understandingly. He really should've expected such a thing. Lisa, if anything, looks even less inclined to wait than he is, "but, hey, try to keep yourself focused. If we wait for long enough, and hope _really_ hard, then maybe he'll just-"

There's a blur of blue, a sudden shriek of menace in the air that it's very hard to avoid.

"-Be summoned to us?"

Down below, Snart turns in Zoom's direction with a small smirk already curving his face. The creature seemingly appeared out of nowhere, a nightmare from the shadows, but Snart seems disinclined to let this intimidate him. He only takes a step closer, tilts his head as if they're meeting up in Jitters or some equally idyllic place, "Zoom, I presume?"

There's a flash of blue lightning, warning, but Zoom seems somewhat thoughtful. Coldly contemplative, in a way that could very easily cut to the bone if he let it, "Snart."

"You've heard of me?" Snart asks, and still doesn't flinch. It's like he talks to dungeon horrors on a daily basis, eats them up for breakfast and then washes them down with a good gulp of cosmic terror, "I must admit, I'm flattered. I never expected my reputation to stretch across universes."

"You're rather hard to miss," Zoom allows, another crackle of lightning springing off him, "what do you _want_?"

Such arrogance, such lack of care. Snart takes it calmly, keeps smirking like this is a perfectly normal negotiation, but he boils at it. Wants to leap forward, as fast as he can, and snap Zoom's wretched neck before he can do any more damage to the people he loves, "why, what any forward looking criminal wants. I want to _work_ for you."

"Forward looking," Zoom seems pleased by that, arrogance clear again. His fingers twitch, Lisa reaches out to punch him in the arm before he can do anything rash, "how do I know I can trust you? You are of this universe, and of this city. How can I be at all sure that you will do the sensible thing and subjugate yourself before me? _Bow_ before the glorious presence of Zoom?"

"Because, if you know anything about me, you'll know that I'm intelligent. And that I _love_ being on the winning side," Snart lowers his chin, looks as submissive as he's ever seen him. It looks _wrong_ , but the man carries it off about as well as can be expected, "if it's a choice between surviving or being loyal to the world that has fucked me over so many times, then I'm always going to pick survival. It's just the way that I'm _wired_."

"Hm," Zoom allows, and tilts his head. Continues to seem almost thoughtful, lured in by the considerable charm of Leonard Snart, "all of that is true, but..."

"You're still not sure, because you're even more intelligent than me," Snart flatters, and smiles until Zoom seems almost pleased. Sickeningly pleased, stupidly pleased in a way that is going to trip him up as violently as possible, "understandable. But what if I said that I could _prove_ my loyalty to you, in one quick and easy action?"

"I would say that I was intrigued," Zoom offers. Blue lightning growing closer to his body, almost more _intimate_ , "and that you should carry on."

"Let me kill the Flash for you," Snart purrs, and sounds so convincing that he actually starts a little. Is only restrained by Lisa's hasty hand on his arm, Lisa's fingernails digging in so hard that he can feel them even through the leather, "he's the one proper obstacle standing between you and this city, and with him out of the way you can be a _god_. Let me hunt him down like a dog, shoot him in the heart with my cold gun and bring him back to you as a trophy. It would be my pleasure to do it."

A long pause. Zoom stares thoughtfully, largely unreadable beyond that. He holds his breath, caught so surely in the grip of terror...

"You will not have to hunt him," that it feels like a punch in the gut, when Zoom finally crackles again. Blurs for a second, breath-stoppingly fast even to him, and then grinds back to a halt with _Barry_ held under one arm, "I meant to torture him a little more, make him _know_ how inferior he was before I killed him, but perhaps he will serve a better purpose here. The first bloody step to my glorious empire."

 _Barry_. To see him again makes him almost faint with relief. He looks well enough, better than he had nightmares about in the brief periods where Caitlin forced him to get some sleep. He looks pale, but defiant. Slightly bruised around the edges, but still strong as he raises his head and glances around the area. There's dried blood around his hairline, and even from here he can see that the boy's eyes look bloodshot. He vows, that for every bruise Zoom will pay. He _swears_ it upon his life.

"You're so thoughtful," Snart blinks for a second, assessing the situation, and then crouches down for a moment so he can meet Barry's eyes. They stare at each other for one second, two, and then... "It will be so easy, to remove him. To remove all obstacles, all pain, all emotional ties. One shot, like _that_ , and then every troublesome inch of him would be gone forever."

Zoom lets out a low, rasping chuckle. Barry and Snart's eyes remain locked, almost as if silently communicating. He holds his breath for one moment, two...

"A pity for you, that I've never exactly _liked_ the easy path."

Snart stands up, in one smooth movement that he admires even as he tenses into a ready state. In the next moment his gun is in his hand, primed and ready. And in the next, before Zoom can do more than briefly vibrate with confusion, he's aimed and fired - an arc of pure ice heading straight for Zoom's chest.

Unfortunately, the creature is still significantly faster than any other they've encountered. He still drops Barry, possibly from the shock of betrayal, but manages to shoot back before the ice hits him straight in the heart. Pauses just out of reach for a moment, vibrating with a mixture of rage and confusion that is as potent as it is deadly, before darting forwards again - heading straight for Snart with lethal intent.

Lisa yells at his side, terrified and angry all at once, but luckily Zoom never gets there. Before he can Barry grabs his ankle, and a bolt of _lightning_ shoots down from the sky before Zoom can shake him off - strikes him in a way that the ice couldn't, sending him to his knees with a loud cry of pain.

A staggering moment, as Barry rolls away and he finally takes the opportunity to jump off their building. Zoom staggers to his feet, slightly smoking and still shaking with rage. But, before he can choose between Barry on his knees and Snart aiming the cold gun again, a wave of sound barrels between them both. Strikes the creature straight in the chest, and sends him stumbling back with arms flailing and head snapping violently back.

So violently that his mask starts to slide, fastenings undone by the stress they've just undergone.

...So violently that, by the time he finally manages to right himself and glare in Barry's direction again, a flash of blonde hair has been revealed. Bright blue eyes, and an oddly familiar face that he's pretty sure he's seen somewhere before.

"Eddie," Barry gasps, eyes gone wide. Which answers _that_ , then.

"Who the fuck is _Eddie_?" Apparently Eddie, or apparently not Eddie depending on how you look at it, snarls. Takes a staggering step forward, and then another with his eyes blazing hot.

But it's too late for him, too late for the brutal revenge that he so obviously has planned. He's already shot forward, bravely into the gap. Comes to a steady crouch in front of Barry, fully prepared and with rage surging through his body hard enough to cause sparks.

Zoom hesitates for a second. Glances at him, glances at Barry's wide eyes, glances at Snart's aimed gun, glances at Hartley standing boldly in the middle of the road with his technology prepped and Mark hovering just above with his hands outstretched and Lisa leaning half off the edge of the building with her eyes blazing and Axel and Mick coming out of their respective alleyways-

And shrugs, briefly. Sends one last piercing glance at him, then shoots off into the night without even a backwards glance.

He waits one moment, two. Then spins around, just as Snart's gun starts to lower and Snart's posture starts to ease. He doesn't bother to check anything else, doesn't bother to shoot off after Zoom and snap the creature's neck as hard as he wishes, doesn't bother to gain revenge as surely as he has in the past. 

Barry is here, still staring with wide eyes. And nothing else really matters. All he can do is fall to his knees, gather his boy close and hold on as the sounds of celebration start behind him.

 

\--

 

They leave Snart and his band of Rogues where they are, safe in the knowledge that they can find their way back and protect themselves unassisted. Snart rolls his eyes at the decision, of course, but looks amused at the suggestion. A bond has been deepened today, one unconventional but hopefully satisfying to all parties involved.

...One that leaves him all alone, with his Barry Allen warm and still slightly weak in his arms.

He runs back to Star Labs at full speed, with Barry still clinging reluctantly to him. He decides, on instinct, to take the more secluded entrance. Is soon shooting along the particle accelerator tunnels at top speed. Keen to get Barry back to safety as quickly as possible, away from the darkness of the night with all due speed, far from Zoom-Eddie within the blink of an eye.

It all goes as well as can be expected, until Barry stirs in his arms and leans up to yell, “can we stop for a second?”

He grinds to a halt immediately, as willing as a dog to follow Barry’s instructions. Has only a moment to feel wryly amused at that, before the concern takes over and he sets Barry down with careful hands, “are you alright? Did Zoom-?”

“Eobard, I’m _fine_. I just need a second to catch my breath,” Barry pauses for a moment, wryly shakes his head. When he pushes himself to his feet he’s still a little shaky, but firmer than he ever expected. The strongest man he’s ever met, in any universe “...Heh. Away from people, I mean. I love them all, but-“

“You’ve been through a lot, you need some time to process it,” he provides. And watches, a touch helplessly, as Barry’s lips quirk up in a smile, “I understand completely. Do you want me to-?”

“No,” Barry says quickly. And, to his mild surprise, shoots a hand out – grabs his wrist and anchors him in place as if fearful of what he’d do otherwise, “I want you here. I... Need you here. We have to talk, after everything that’s happened.”

He’s a touch confused, but allows himself to be manoeuvred back into place. The touch of Barry’s skin is still intoxicating, even after all this time. He can’t resist it, he can only arch a questioning eyebrow.

“...You saved me,” Barry says, very deliberately.

“I could do nothing else,” he admits, and is surprised by the truth of it. Him saving, or at least trying to save, Barry Allen was inevitable. He would’ve cheerfully shredded himself to atoms in the very pursuit of it, “I couldn’t stand to see you hurt again by that monster. Or, even worse and horrifyingly possible-“

“Killed again by that monster,” Barry finishes for him, staring up with eyes so unguarded that he could drown in them if he wasn’t careful, “by Eddie, I mean.”

A long pause. He desperately wants to comfort, but isn’t quite sure _how_ to.

“...He doesn’t matter right now,” but Barry handles himself, as ever, looks back at him with firm determination in his eyes. And something else, an emotion that he could never quite put a name to but that was often so very clear on the other Barry’s face, “what matters is that you saved me. Saved me because you couldn’t stand to see another person that you cared about hurt by Zoom. Forgive me for saying, but that’s kinda every hero origin story in the book.”

“...I’m not a hero, Barry,” he breathes, but can’t quite bring himself to look away. He tries, he even jerks his head a little, but those wide eyes hold him firmly in place, “and I don’t just care about you.”

“Oh?” Barry breathes, and leans ever closer. A warmth that he’s never been able to deny.

“No. I _love_ you, Barry Allen,” he breathes, and can’t quite resist reaching out to cup Barry’s face. To feel the soft warmth of his skin, and see the flicker of his eyelashes up close, “I love your lips, I love your hair, I love your eyes. I love the way you smile, I love the way you laugh, I love the way you look at me sometimes like I’m more than just some dick with superpowers. I love your optimism, I love your determination, I love the way that you’ve never given up on a single thing in your life. I love _you_ , and-“

He doesn’t know who starts the kiss, but he suspects that it’s him. Barry’s lips are wet and warm, and open to take him in almost instantly. His skin is still soft, and he actually gasps when a thumb is swiped across it. Their tongues tangle perfectly, their bodies slide together like they were made to do so and... For the first time he’s glad that he’s never experienced perfection before, because this is it. This is the best thing in the universe. _This_ -

...Is wrong.

He pulls away, though his gut cries out against it. Allows one final swipe of his thumb across Barry’s soft cheek, and then lets go. Barry’s eyes remain closed for a long moment, and then snap open in confusion so clear that he’d be tempted to smirk at it in any other situation, “wha-?”

“I really should leave you to gather yourself for a few moments,” he says, miserably, and forces himself to turn upon his heel. He’s already gone too far, pushed past the bounds of decency yet again. He cannot project his feelings onto this Barry, he cannot imagine longing where there is none, he cannot _force_ this beautiful boy into a shape he isn’t, “I’ll go patrol the perimeter, make sure that Zoom isn’t lurking around. Call me when you want to go upstairs, and-“

And Barry grabs his arm, yanks him around so quickly that even his head whirls at it. He has a moment of confusion, a stuttering thing that he has no idea how to parse – and then Barry is kissing him to within an inch of his life. Pressing him back against the tunnel wall with full strength and plundering his mouth so fully that the only thing he can do is hold on.

“Barry,” he pants, when they part for air. His arms laced helplessly around his boy’s neck, their bodies pressed so closely together that neither of their interests can be denied, “Barry, what-?”

“Do _not_ go down the self denial route now,” Barry actually snarls, and kisses him again. Keeps kissing him, until he’s gone completely boneless and can easily be thrown against the opposite wall, “do _not_ turn away from me after you’ve finally kissed me. Do not tell me that you love me and then just _go_ , Eobard.”

“Barry, I-“ he tries, but is embarrassed to find his words trailing off into a whine as Barry actually rips the clothes from his body. Presses up against him in a long burn of naked heat, so hot and firm that it’d drive anybody to madness, “Barry. _Barry_ -!”

And, for a moment, he thinks that _this_ must be what perfection actually feels like. Then Barry gets a hand on his cock and starts to vibrate, and very little thought is possible from there.


	16. Chapter 16

“I’m so glad you’re alright,” Iris says, practically shaking with relief as she envelops Barry in a bear hug, “did he hurt you? Either of you? Did you notice anything about him?”

He’s... Too confused to really provide a response to that, beyond a small smile and a slight shake of his head. There are bites under his clothes, bruises that he can still feel against the fabric every time he shifts. He looks at Barry, and realizes that he knows how that soft skin feels underneath his fingertips now. And that thought drives all others from his head.

“I’m fine, Iris,” but luckily, Barry hasn’t the same problem. He offers him a soft smile, a secret one with still slightly swollen lips, and then turns carefully back to the room – like he wasn’t naked and panting and sliding into him just a few minutes ago, “we’re fine. Zoom wanted to psychologically torture me, before he started in on the physical stuff. I’m a little bruised, a little more tired than I’d like to be, but other than that... I’m good.”

“Good?” Joe asks, staring at Barry like he’s just sprouted a second head, “after being kidnapped by a nightmarish guy who thinks blue lighting is a fashion statement.”

“Yeah, largely,” Barry defends, and sends another secret glance sideways in his direction. Sidles just that little bit closer, near enough that heat flares helplessly across his skin, “in fact, I’d say that I’m possibly the best I’ve ever been.”

“Hm,” Joan says, glancing between the two of them with thoughtful eyes. Thoughtful eyes that soon go smug, even as Joe quite obviously descends into confusion, “that’s nice for you. But on to slightly more important matters. Did you notice anything specific about Zoom, while he had you? Any identifying features, or anything to confirm any of our... Theories?”

“I didn’t notice anything much while he had me. Only that he really liked intimidation tactics, and we kinda knew that already. He seems a terrifying guy, but not all that imaginative or smart,” Barry shrugs for a second, allows the first flash of discomfort to cross his face since before they finally came together down in the pipeline with the speedforce thrumming all around them, “but while we were facing him, when Eobard rescued me...”

“Your theory was correct, Ms West,” he interrupts, narrowly restraining a little shudder at Barry saying his name. The last time he did so they were both naked and both on the point of coming, it is an... Intoxicating reminder, “It was, indeed, the doppelganger of Eddie Thawne behind the mask.”

“Oh,” Iris blinks for a moment, and then sighs. Glances away with her shoulders quite firmly up and her eyes faintly damp “...Oh.”

“But this is good news,” Stein confirms, rain still in his hair from when he and Ronnie were watching over the city in Barry’s steady, “I mean, it may not seem it at the moment. But if we have knowledge of Zoom’s identity then we’re one step closer to defeating him for good. We need to start making plans, assessing our strengths, assessing _his_ weaknesses in as much detail as-“

“Martin,” Ronnie says warningly from his side, looking a step away from rolling his eyes.

“We can start doing all of that _later_ ,” Caitlin actually rolls her eyes, possibly at the universe in general, “not tonight, to be exact. Barry and Eobard definitely need some rest. And, considering the amount of stress that we’ve all been through in the past few days, it is my considered medical opinion that a few hours of sleep would do the rest of us good too.”

“Ever the doctor,” he sighs, in a weak attempt at sarcasm. Alas, the confusion is still too strong within him – too potent with Barry only a few inches away and staring at him with hot eyes – to successfully offer up much else, “back to the basement for me, then.”

“Don’t be silly,” Barry – still unfortunately with the eyes – corrects him. Reaches out to grab his hand, but seems to see the benefit of subtlety at the last moment and reaches out to awkwardly tap his elbow instead, “I have a spare place in my- on my couch. You’d get a much better rest, uh, _sleeping_ there instead.”

He represses another shudder at those words, the promise encased within them. Watches, out of the corner of his eye, the rest of the room react to them with a mixture of amusement and resignation... And is glad, when Caitlin speaks up again before he can do more than give a quick and hopeful nod, “I don’t care where you do it, be it sofa or bed or basement spa room. All I care is that you get some rest, and get it _now_.”

That decided, they all nod and head obediently in the direction of the door. He sticks close to Barry, closer than he ever has in this universe, with hope fluttering vivid in his chest like a butterfly...

And why shouldn’t it? For the first time in months, it seems like he finally has something to look forward to. Something unexpected, and fast, and smiling back at him with such warm determination that he can’t help but glow underneath it.

 

\--

 

“So,” Barry says, draping his coat over the nearest chair, “this is me.”

They ran all the way here after Caitlin begrudgingly deemed it safe. From the Labs, down several alleyways and right up to a rather nondescript apartment building. They kept an eye out for Zoom all the way, of course, but with little result. It seems like the creature, a blonde and faintly fragile man under his nightmarish suit, had finally retreated to lick his wounds.

...Not that he’s still not expecting the thing to appear at the end of the bed tonight, of course. He’s hopeful, not stupid.

“It’s certainly very private,” he gives, and carefully hangs up his own coat on the back of the door. He’s still not entirely sure of his place here, even with the burn of his muscles from their last time still present in the background, “I have to admit, I wasn’t looking forward to explaining to Joe why I’d be sharing your bed... If I’m not being too bold.”

“I moved out of Joe’s a few months back, when I was going through... Well, a guilty phase is probably the best way to describe it,” Barry laughs a little, seems to notice his anxiety and steps closer. His skin hasn’t changed in the hour or so they haven’t properly touched, he notes absently as his boy loops both arms around his neck, it’s still just as soft as ever, “and you are most certainly not imposing, Eobard. Our first time was all kinds of fun, but I kinda want to try you out against my headboard.”

“On that we can both agree,” he whispers, awestruck at that flirtatious expression on Barry’s face, and dares to close the gap. They kiss like that for a while, close mouthed and with his hands steadily moving to Barry’s hips.

“...Mm,” Barry chuckles into his mouth, draws back just a little. There’s mischief flashing in his eyes, and it’s so gorgeous that he feels faintly tongue tied just looking at it, “is private really the only word you can think of for my apartment? Kinda a double edged compliment, don’t you think? Like saying that you’ve seen dirtier floors or that at least you can’t hear police sirens or that it has a slightly better atmosphere than your room at Star Labs-“

“It’s a perfectly nice apartment,” he laughs this time, finds that he can’t quite stop holding on to Barry’s hips. The bruises have definitely faded from last time, the urge to make new ones is irresistible, “quite stylish, in fact. It’s just that... Well, if you’ll forgive me it _does_ seem a tiny bit impersonal.”

“Hm,” Barry gives, and glances briefly away at the empty walls and obviously chain brought furniture, “you have a point, I suppose. But ah well, we can always fix that.”

“We?” He asks. And really shouldn’t be surprised at the sudden swell of his heart, the surge of sheer affection that flows through him at those words combined with that sort of look. Barry Allen has always caught him thus, it must be the way of the multiverse, “my dear Barry, as flattered as I am... Aren’t you moving a little quickly?”

“I think we’re finally moving at the perfect speed,” Barry smiles softly. And leans in, ever so steadily and surely, to kiss him again.

 

\--

 

He wakes up in the middle of the night, several hours after they’ve finally tired themselves to sleep, to a sense of warmth and security that he never really thought to feel again. The blankets are warm around them, wrapped in a cocoon so secure that nothing could possibly go wrong in it. The room is dark and peaceful, but with a flash of silver moonlight through the gap in the curtains that brings a much needed lightness. The bed is soft-

...And Barry is besides him, lying there peacefully as if none of the bad stuff ever happened.

The boy has his back to him, his body slightly curled into himself as he slumbers, but he hardly minds that. Even asleep Barry is the most beautiful thing in any universe. His dark eyelashes fan out over his upper cheeks, as he props himself up on an elbow to better watch. His lips are curved in a slight smile, and his hands are curled half against his chest in a position that would doubtlessly be slightly uncomfortable if he was awake. There's a constellation of freckles over his bare shoulders, scattering down his smooth back and out of sight under the rumpled sheets.

Words barely do his form justice. Wonderful, would probably be a good place to start. Gorgeous, better than the sun or moon, perfection in human form... He smiles slightly, helplessly, at his ridiculousness and moves one dreamy hand to trace Barry’s collection of freckles-

And is surprised, when Barry shifts a little and then turns over in the bed. Stares at him with faintly dazed eyes.

They watch each other for a long second, sleepy and slow in this dreaming place, and then Barry’s smile widens and he grins ever so helplessly in reply. They move slowly together again, and start to sway as if they’ve been waiting to do so for all their lives.

 

\--

 

“I didn’t know you could cook,” Barry says the next morning, sitting at the kitchen counter in only his boxers, “not that I really knew much of how this would actually go, really. It seems like a Sci-Fi novel to have you here, half-naked in my kitchen and making pancakes.”

“A good Sci-Fi novel, I’d hope,” he offers wryly, and goes for a flip – uses his superspeed to catch the pancake on a plate, in a move that is kind of showy but also kind of absolutely justified considering their situation, “and don’t get too ahead of yourself before you’ve actually tasted them. I haven’t really cooked anything properly for years, ever since-“

“You gained superspeed and resigned yourself to a lifetime of fast food and tacos, I know how it goes,” Barry snorts, and leans up for a brief kiss. Loyally picks up his fork afterwards, with a bright smile, “and no worries, I’m sure that-“

He watches, with steady amusement, as Barry’s expression goes through several emotions at once. Horror and disgust mainly, in a slow motion slideshow that he can’t help but be charmed by.

“...These are the best pancakes I’ve ever tasted?”

“Well, perhaps not. But at least we now know who the worst liar in Central City is,” he purrs, and can’t quite restrain a smirk when Barry blinks at him like a deer caught in the headlights. The boy looks stunning no matter what expression he wears, it’s no surprise that his shock sticks to the pattern, “you looked, briefly, like you’d just bitten into a dead possum.”

“That’s not-!” Barry yelps, shooting half up from his chair. And then sees his amusement, probably entirely too obvious across his face, and slowly starts to smile in return “...Well, maybe they are a tiny bit burnt. But that doesn’t matter too much.”

“Doesn’t it?” He asks, and narrowly remembers to turn the oven off before coming around the counter. Up close, Barry in only his boxers is even more stunning – his abs ripple, his stomach is firm enough to eat off and the dark trail of hair vanishing into the low slung fabric upon his hips is something distractingly divine, “you’re a young man with superspeed, Barry, if you don’t eat regularly...”

“It’s alright, Eobard,” Barry’s eyes sparkle with mischief. And suddenly he’s up on his feet, up in his space with that wonderfully hot expression from last night lingering in his eyes, “I’ve got something _far_ more sweet in mind.”

They make out casually like that for a while, standing in the kitchen with the both of them in their boxers and the aroma of burnt pancakes lingering around them. It’s simple, with the sunlight filtering in through the window. Calm, with Barry’s skin soft under his fingertips. Almost _domestic_ , with the weight of history between them transmuted to something softer and more hopeful. He doesn’t think that he’s ever been happier in his whole life.

He only draws back when Barry’s kisses start getting more insistent, when Barry’s hands start roaming lower, and even then it’s reluctantly, “we need to go into Star Labs today.”

“We probably should,” Barry shrugs, almost cheerfully, leans in for another briefer kiss that takes his breath away. His boy is a good kisser, all focused passion and teasing pressure that could drive any person to the brink of wild madness, “we’ve got time, though.”

“Barry, if I let you use that logic I know very well that I’ll be chained to your bed all day,” he protests, but not with that much conviction. Being chained to Barry’s bed, in whatever capacity, is something that excites him on an almost primal level. When his boy kisses him again he allows it, helplessly, “I have an idea of how to stop Zoom, I need to share it as quickly-“

“Do we have to discuss Zoom now?” Barry asks plaintively, lips but a breath away, and chooses this time to vary his approach. Presses open mouthed kisses down over his throat, so teasing that he almost gets the impression that his boy learned it from him, “can’t it wait, just for half an hour?”

“Barry...” He gulps, probably hard enough for Barry to feel it through his lips. Arches into the contact despite- no, entirely because of himself. He’s just won everything that he’s ever wanted, after several long months of thinking that all his desires were doomed to crumble into ash in his hands. No person could resist that, “I know you’re eager, incredibly and flatteringly so, but-“

“I was in love with another version of you for about a year,” Barry says against his throat, small and slightly uncertain. When he draws back a little, so they can finally lock eyes, the mixture of emotion there is like a whirlpool – sucking him in to drown, unable to give even the most cursory shit even as his head goes underneath the water, “I’ve been in love with you for... Weeks now. I just don’t want to waste anymore time, that’s all.”

...No person could resist that, and no person should.

“Well, maybe we have five more minutes,” he breathes, and turns to lift Barry right up onto the counter. Leans in again, with the feeling of inevitability so right in his gut that he can’t believe that they haven’t been doing this all along.

 

\--

 

As it turns out they get to Star Labs two hours later than he's intending, and then only barely. When they enter the control room Barry's hair is ruffled up into a halo around his head, he's still desperately trying to tug up the neck of the jumper he hastily borrowed from the bedroom floor and the both of them are probably flushed as red as tomatoes. What they've just been doing, have been doing for the past few hours, is probably entirely and utterly obvious.

...But luckily, nobody really seems to mind. Everybody glances up at them when they enter the room, smirks indulgently and immediately gets back to what they were doing. Joe's eyes linger for the longest, narrowing as if in deep thought, but then he shrugs - seems to accept them with a small smile, and an unexpected amount of cheer.

More relieved than he thought he would be, he strolls to the computer console with Barry trailing loyally just a step behind, "morning."

" _Barely_ ," Caitlin snorts, but still gives him a fond smile. She seems happy for him. Yet another odd occurrence that he supposes he's going to have to get used to, "but that's alright. I'm just glad to see that both of you are _finally_ getting some rest."

"Yes," Barry says innocently, coming to his side with a rather meaningful glance in his direction "...Rest."

"We didn't expect you to come in today, though," Cisco offers, looking only briefly mortified at the implication. He's a strong boy, he's sure that he'll soon manage to get over it, "we expected you both to take a few more days. Properly relax, properly..."

"Get to know each other," Ronnie suggests, coming up to the console with only the slightest smirk.

"Like you and mr Rory?" he asks innocently, just to watch Ronnie blink and Stein go bright red in the background, but quickly moves on. He doesn't need to discuss the events of last night in detail, he's already got them locked away in his heart for the rest of his life, "we can get to know each other after Zoom is properly stopped, Mr Ramon. There shall be all the time in the world, after we're all free of that monster."

"That monster," Iris says slowly, as a pall settles over the room at the thought of Zoom and all he entails, "Ed-"

"He's not Eddie," Barry interrupts. And, before he realizes it, has reached out to insistently take his hand - squeeze it lightly, lending him strength in a way that he doesn't quite understand but is helpless to resist, "Eobard says that he isn't, and I believe him. Which means that we can focus on stopping him, and worry about everything else afterwards."

"That's... A good idea," Jay offers, and stares dreamily at their linked hands until Joan snorts and elbows him in the side, "a very good idea, I think we'd all agree that. The only problem with it is-"

"Like all good ideas that everybody agrees with, it might be a lot harder to put into practice," Joe finishes for him, rolling his eyes. But not in a particularly wrathful way. He hardly looks pleased, to see the subtle way Barry's hand rests in his, but he still fails to look particularly annoyed about it, "we need to stop Zoom, sure, but we've been saying that for _months_. The real question is how do we _actually_ stop Zoom?"

"Well," Barry says. And stares at him fondly, almost _proudly_ as if he'd rather be nowhere else than standing here holding his hand, "Eobard has a few ideas. And I _think_ that they're, just possibly, going to be a hit."


	17. Chapter 17

He's half expecting, if not exactly hoping for, the Rogues to be long gone by the time he shoots into their hideout again. But instead, when he grinds to a halt in the centre of the main room, he finds himself in the middle of a busy room. Rogues scurrying everywhere, Lisa holding a box and Snart looking somewhat unimpressed right in the middle of them.

"Oh, it's Eobard!" Lisa chirps, and immediately drops the box. There's a low crunch, he hears Axel make a sound of muffled pain from the background, "morning, Eobard! You look well."

"Thank you," he smiles, swaying to a complete stop. Folding his arms behind his back, and attempting to look convincing.

"Really well," which is apparently not needed, with Lisa. Who tilts her head, and adopts a certain smile like she had a bird's eye view of... The multiple events of last night, "I mean, you're actually smiling properly and not like you're secretly hiding deep psychological scars that will take many years of medical treatment to successfully heal."

"...Uh," he blinks, and glances at Snart who appears to be mid heartfelt eyeroll, "thank you again?"

"I told my sister that she should stop watching CSI," Snart drawls, to the appreciative reception of Lisa's very brightest smile, "but, then, I also told her to _change the locks_ so maybe she's just stopped listening to everything that I say. What do you want, Thawne?"

"Such a hostile reaction," he purrs, with one final glance at the smugly smirking Lisa, "and I thought that we worked so well together last night. Can you really blame people for not listening to you if this is the treatment they get?"

"I can blame people for a lot of things," Snart retorts, with yet another heartfelt roll of his eyes. The poor boy, he must be putting himself at risk of strain, "especially when they don't answer my very reasonable questions. Why are you _here_ , Thawne? Does it have anything to do with what you apparently consider to be our _bonding_ experience last night?"

"You've got it on the head," he says playfully, and decides to get on with it as Snart only sighs in response. He likes mocking, _loves_ being a sarcastic dick who will cheerfully play with anybody, but perhaps he's starting to learn some sense of responsibility. He wants this to go well, or at least not so terribly that he cuts off any of the links that he worked so very hard to form, "Zoom is still out there, Snart. And your help last night made all the difference."

"And by 'you' you do mean 'general you', right?" Lisa interjects, with a pointed glance at her brother, "because, as far as I'm concerned, the main thing that _Lenny_ did was miss."

"Lisa," Snart snaps, to a generally unimpressed reaction. His thoughtful expression, and Lisa's general disposition, kind of rule out any other such things, "our help last night did make all the difference, yes, but I'm not exactly sure why you expect us to offer it again. I thought we made it clear that it was a one time deal, a fluke in the usual terms of our relationship."

"Clear enough," he agrees amiably. Although, to his mind, their apparent unwillingness to help wasn't actually clear at all, "but you're a smart man, Snart. Surely you can see that taking down Zoom for once and for all will be good for you too?"

"I am a smart man," Snart retorts, with a frown that wants to be dismissive and is instead far too thoughtful for its own good, "and so I know that avoiding Zoom, the guy I recently betrayed and tried to kill, is a far better tactic than deliberately throwing myself into his path like a trussed turkey."

"Lenny..." Lisa protests softly, frowning a frown like she's rather reluctant to just entirely dismiss the proposal and walk away.

"A fair point," he allows smoothly. Feeling the need, that old and hungry need, to take control of this situation as much as he can, "a fairly reasonable point, in fact, and one that must cause me to change my tactics by necessity. Don't do it because it's the smart thing to do, mr Snart, do it because it's the _right_ thing to do."

Lisa fully spins to stare at him, eyes wide as if she has no idea where he's going to go next. Her brother adopts a sour expression, his face puckering in as reluctant thought shows in his eyes, "you think I give even the slightest damn about the _right_ thing to do?"

"In one word: yes," he answers, a touch glibly. Regains his seriousness as Snart, obviously against his better judgement, resists the urge to reach for his gun and instead continues to stare at him darkly, "you were the first proper Rogue I heard about when I came to this universe, Snart. You may want to be the villain of the piece, you may successfully manage to be so most of the time, but deep down you have morals and you have a sense of justice. All it takes is the right situation to bring them out."

"And this is it?" Snart asks, trying to sneer in as scornful a manner as possible. It doesn't work as well as he would hope, his heart shows in his eyes, "this is the singular situation where, in your ever so informed eyes, I will shuck off my villainous _shell_ and emerge a hero?"

"Yes," he offers, somehow resisting the urge to smile.

"And how can you be so sure," as Snart steps closer, wounded anger making his movements jerky, and challengingly tilts his head, "that I won't just lift my gun, and get rid of the _actual_ problem right now?"

"Because if you do, thousands of people will remain in danger," he replies levelly, and lifts his chin. Meets Snart's glare head on, confidence returning to him in one heady flood, "you will remain in danger, your sister will remain in danger. And as for _Barry_... Well."

Snart stares at him darkly. Anger fading, confusion surging up ever so clearly in his eyes.

"Some situations," he says, deliberately, "are worth being heroes for."

 

\--

 

"Again?" Mark spits incredulously, " _Seriously_?"

"You didn't have to come along, Mark," Snart drawls, looking both reluctant and resigned. He'll take such a combination, it's significantly better than angry and aiming a gun, "just as you didn't have to vote in favour of helping the first time. You can't complain about _democracy_ , not when you're actively participating in it."

"What about me?" Joe asks, watching over proceedings with a sour expression, "can _I_ complain about democracy? I mean, if I haven't participated in it..."

"None of us can complain about the primary political system of the Western world," he interrupts firmly, with an amused roll of his eyes. As much as he would pay good money to see the Rogues arguing about the flaws of the democratic system, this is pretty much the definition of not the time, "unless Zoom runs for the white house, which I most certainly hope is unlikely, it is irrelevant to our current purpose."

Hartley looks for a second like he's about to protest that, but then sighs and shrugs. Decides to choose the more sensible, and selfish, option with a show of prioritising that he entirely admires, "the only thing _I_ want to know is that we won't get arrested for this... Political discussion."

"You won't," Cisco assures him. Looking briefly amused, and then lastingly angry at his amusement, "in exchange for your help... Well, we can't exactly arrange _pardons_ for any of you. But we can assure you that, after Zoom is all defeated and locked up in the most secure cell known to man, that we won't immediately turn around and drag you back to jail. Right, Joe?"

Joe grunts, the Rogues seem to collectively accept that as the best they're getting.

"That's kind of you," Hartley smirks, but carries on as professionally as he can as Cisco levels an extremely meaningful glare in his direction, "but is far less reassuring than you probably mean it to be. You forget that I used to work here. This place is covered in cameras, how do I know that you won't use the footage to cause our collective arrest a day after?"

" _God_ you are paranoid," Cisco snaps, as he blinks at the revelation of cameras everywhere. In every part of the labs, including... "I can erase the camera footage, alright? It's quite easy, I've done it several times before."

"Are you sure?" Hartley simpers, as he blinks at that news too, "have you done it recently? Can you assure us, with all honesty, that you can actually operate all the little buttons?"

"Asshole," Cisco snaps. And suddenly every part of his reactions over the past day, the quietness and the avoidance and the endless awkward shifting, become clear in one heart-stoppingly exhibitionist moment, "I erased them just last night, as a matter of fact, and can easily do so again. If I can erase all of what Eobard and-"

"Again, besides the point!" He interrupts hastily, sending an apologetic glance in Cisco's shifty direction as Lisa lets out a delighted snort behind him, "our main purpose for being here is to stop Zoom, and return this world to some sort of normalcy. Anything other than that is a distraction."

"We do this, and that's it," Snart confirms, turning to address the assembled Rogues with a newly determined look in his eye, "no more worrying, no more subjecting ourselves to the whims of various madmen, no more contorting ourselves into the roles of heroes. We save the day, and _then_ we go back to being villains with completely separate agendas."

Rory clears his throat pointedly, having taken up his place between the smug looking Ronnie and the faintly pleased looking Stein.

"...Largely separate agendas."

"This is where it ends," he confirms, with a triumphant smile that he can't quite help. He remembers the heat of Barry underneath him, his friends are gathered around him and Zoom is on the run. Things are dangerous, but this is the best that he's felt in his whole damned life, "we play this right, and we never have to worry again. We play this right, and this is the day that we _win_."

 

\--

 

The session, initially, goes less than well.

"Why don't we just hit him in the face with fire?" Mick suggests, with a bright expression like he's revelling in the sheer brilliance of his idea, "that works for most people, even speedsters. One sudden strike and _bam_ , no more Zoom."

"While that is a fine idea, Mr Rory," Stein sighs, attempting to look as encouraging as possible, "there are one or two problems with it. Namely that Zoom is in possession of superspeed, and thus rather hard to actually hit with said 'sudden strike'."

"What about lightning?" Mark offers next, having gotten over his brief period of sulking to lean thoughtfully against one of the walls, "lightning is accurate and deadly, and has none of the speed problems that Mick's idea does. We could just hit him with a sudden bolt of lightning, problem solved."

"A better idea," Joan, who arrived from a trip to restock the medical centre with Jay a few minutes ago, says with nary a glance to where Mick is giving an entirely heartfelt pout, "but it still has some problems. Namely that, if we pay attention to what happened last night, you already used that trick on Zoom. And quite recently too."

"The Thawne intelligence has apparently increased over the centuries, but he'll still be expecting it," he agrees, perhaps a touch more tactfully. And it's probably the oddest feeling in the world, to be the _tactful_ one in any given situation, "and, besides..."

"We don't know how lightning will actually interact with speedsters," a cheerful voice interrupts. And, as he turns to the door and the rest of the room gets halfway through a blink, _Barry_ grinds to a halt in the middle of them. Dressed in his Flash suit, freshly back from a patrol around the city and still beaming like he's had everything that he's ever wanted handed to him on a silver platter, "it could kill him dead, _or_ power him up. It's a serious risk!"

"Flash," he breathes, stepping forwards a touch warily. He's slightly worried that Barry will actually look at him, in the light of day, and realize his mistake. Allow the joy to fade from his eyes, to be replaced by disgust and horror and a profound desire to...

He shouldn't have worried. Barry spots him, and his eyes immediately go soft. He steps into his space quickly, smiles and kisses him so sweetly that the rest of the world almost fades away.

"How sweet," _Almost_ , being the key word there. Snart's drawling voice penetrates into their reverie, soon accompanied by Axel's gagging sounds and Hartley's over the top sigh, "it's good to see you well and _frisky_ , Flash. After last time I was starting to think that you were a goner."

"Unfortunately for you, Snart, I'm rather hard to kill," Barry pulls out of their kiss, gives him one last secret smile before turning to the rest of the room, "though that's largely because I have such good friends. I'm glad you all came, taking down Zoom will be a hell of a lot easier if we have all the support we can gather."

"We're _not_ your-" Hartley starts hotly, and then sighs again. Sends a resigned glance in the direction of Lisa, who is beaming so madly that he honestly can't tell if it's genuine or mocking, "we're glad to be here. _Our_ good friend Eobard convinced us that taking down Zoom was in all our interests."

"I-" Barry starts sharply, and then glances at him. Seems to see some level of reassurance, perhaps some steady certainty that Barry Allen is the main person he wants to look at for the rest of his life, and calms to a smile instead, "I really believe it is. Zoom is a monster, capable of worse than any of us can dream of. If we don't take him down, he'll just keep hurting all of us until we have nothing left. I'm glad we all understand that."

"Or, at the very least, the principles of the predominant political system of the Western world," Joe comments wryly, still wearing the same scowl that he adopted hours ago now.

"...Okay!" Barry chirps cheerfully, and makes the rather sensible decision to gloss over that statement as quickly as possible, "look, I know this isn't a permanent arrangement. But now that we're all working together, and you've saved my life multiple times, I really think I should tell you all something."

"Such as...?" Hartley asks slowly, looking intrigued.

"Uh, _Flash_ -" Cisco starts quickly, standing half up from the computer console with his eyes wide.

"My identity!" Barry smiles, before anybody can dart forward to stop him, and flips his cowl off. Reveals ruffled brown hair, and those wide eyes that he's come to love so very much, "Hartley and Len already know this. But, well... After what the rest of you did last night, and _with_ what you're risking now, I trust you all to treat the information in a responsible manner. My name is Barry Allen, and I thank you from the bottom of my heart."

A long, oddly amused pause...

"Oh my god!" Lisa gasps, in perhaps the most unconvincing manner that anybody has ever gasped anything in the history of the universe, "this is _brand new_ information to me!"

"I would've never guessed," Mark agrees, with a nod of his head that is quite possibly the polar opposite of sincere, "that the man in red who frequently works with Joe West is also the adoptive son of Joe West. This is absolutely and utterly inconceivable to me."

"Inconceivable to all of us," Axel nods, not even bothering to look anything more than completely unimpressed, "I fear telling my dear father the truth, in case he keels over and dies from the shock of it."

Another long pause. They all stare at the Rogues, slightly stunned. The Rogues all stare back, absolutely innocent.

"You _knew_?" Cisco is the first one to explode, standing up from behind the computer console with his jaw flopping open and his eyes so outraged that it's like a farce in motion, "you all _knew_ that Barry was the Flash, and didn't say anything? Hartley!"

"Hey!"

"Sorry to disappoint you, cupcake, but neither Hartley _or_ my brother told us that information," Lisa purrs, with an entirely heartfelt and _obviously_ mocking roll of her eyes, "we may seem dumb, but we were just about smart enough to figure it out for ourselves."

"It was kind of obvious," Mick points out, causing pretty much every head in the room to snap around to him, "I mean, if you will keep taking your hood off and allowing your sidekicks to call you Barry..."

"I am _not_ a-!"

"As amusing as this all is, it is again besides the point," he interrupts Cisco's angry screech, and reaches out to catch Barry's slightly confused hand. A pause, and then Barry's fingers tighten around his and all becomes right with the world, "our purview is not to discuss how hidden, or entirely obvious, Barry's secret identity is. It's to stop Zoom. And that, I think, is something on which we can all agree."

 

\--

 

"We could spring a trap for him!" Axel suggests hopefully, with an overenthusiastic bounce that it's almost a _pity_ to have to crush ruthlessly and without a backwards glance, "the whole trap idea worked last time, after all. But this time, _this_ time, we make it more complicated. With a few careful explosions and a trick maze and..."

"Say one word more," Lisa interrupts him, low and deadly, "and I _swear_ that I will punch you right in the face."

"The problem with overcomplicated plans is that they look very clever, until they're not," Snart drawls in support, with an amused glance at the glare on his little sister's face, "Zoom could very easily circumvent anything we had planned, or ignore that we had a plan altogether. And we can't afford that kind of risk, not when _he's_ involved."

"The trap idea is a good one, though," Jay, ever too nice for his own good, offers with the kind of positive smile that could drive any person to despair, "it just needs a bit of tweaking, to make it a bit more simple. Luring him into a bottleneck, for instance..."

"Jay, honey, that's a start," Joan, ever far more willing to speak her true mind than her husband, interrupts. Pats him gently on the arm as he blinks at her, "but the problem _there_ is that he's far faster than all of us. We could try and lure him, sure, but unless we calculate the distances _very_ exactly that plan is just going to end with him murdering all of us and shooting cheerfully off into the sunset."

"...He's faster than all of us?" Hartley asks, with a wrinkled nose like he's pictured that end result and found it deeply displeasing, "seriously? Even the resident speedsters?"

The entire Star labs team glances at him. And then, entirely too awkwardly, speedily away again.

"...Wow. Aren't _you_ pathetic."

Cisco bursts into spluttering anger from his position, and Barry sends him a faintly despairing look as he does so. He only offers a smile in response, tightens his grip on his boy's hand. Rome wasn't built in a day, nothing worthwhile ever is. And argument by argument, long hour by long hour, bad idea fading into acceptable idea they're getting ever closer to peace. Ever closer, to the safety of knowing that the worst times are behind them. 

 

\--

 

"So," Jay starts authoritatively a few long, semi-productive hours later, "it's decided, then. With the help of both science and computers-"

"Which are technically the same thing," Hartley points out wryly.

"-We shall calculate an accurate timeframe for luring Zoom into a secluded area, that he can't simply speed out of," Jay finishes off, authority briefly giving way to apology in a way that is simply _sweet_ , "with him trapped in such a way, it should be far less risky to openly face him. And soon, as a result, all our problems shall be solved!"

"We can hope," Snart drawls, with a heartfelt roll of his eyes that entirely conveys his opinion on the situation, "but, you see, there are still certain kinks in that worldview. Namely - _how_ are we actually going to solve all of our problems?"

"Well," Jay stutters for a moment, glances to him for support. He simply arches his eyebrow in reply, "we're going to-"

"Calculate an accurate timeframe to prevent most murder and lure Zoom into a bottleneck, _yes_ ," Snart answers, with a wry eyebrow arch of his own, "but what are we going to do after that? From what I know about Zoom, we won't be able to keep him in one place for long. How are we going to take him down, once we've got him?"

"Well," Barry starts slowly. Thoughtfully, gripping his hand briefly as if desperately hoping to find inspiration there, "we could knock him out, and bring him back here? I mean, if I vibrate my hand fast enough I'm sure that I could knock him unconscious for at least a while. And, with his healing ability, there wouldn't be too many risks of side effects."

"Because we all care so much about a murderous superspeed monster suffering side effects," Hartley purrs, expressing a sentiment that he's pretty sure most of the room can agree with, "but there are problems with that plan beyond your overdeveloped sense of empathy, Barry. The whole healing ability thing is an effect of the Speedforce, yes? If he can heal himself from your actions with the speedforce, what's to say that he can't find some way to _resist_ your actions with the speedforce."

"Uh," Barry says, his face going slightly slack as he realizes Hartley's point.

"We'll table that idea for now, and maybe think about it in more depth later," he offers reassuringly, and firmly ignores the way that literally _all_ of the Rogues roll their eyes at his brief kindness, "what if we don't rely on the Speedforce entirely, then? What if we just use it to... Hurry along the process? We could use it to trip him, perhaps slam him into one of the walls of our bottleneck."

"Not even the Speedforce can resist sudden random accidents," Joe nods, a thoughtful expression on his face, "I thought about it in... Greater detail than I should've, before we were all on the same side."

"Nice to know," Hartley scowls a little, as he can't quite hold back a smirk at the news, "but, again, that plan-"

"Has inherent problems. Most prominently, the fact that he's significantly faster than _all_ of you," Iris' voice drifts from the doorway. And finally she arrives, fresh from her day job and with an intensely thoughtful expression upon her face, "He might, and by 'might' I mean 'probably will', be able to dodge any attempts to trip him or throw him into walls. Failing random act of god, it's another plan that just involves far too much risk."

"You..." Lisa thinks for a moment at the entrance. Eventually smiles, so bright as to be on the very borderline of blinding, "are very unconcerned to find a pack of Rogues suddenly standing in the middle of your workplace. I can admire that, in a person."

"It's just a normal Tuesday in the good old land of Star Labs," Iris winks, effortlessly casual, and carries on even as Lisa starts to laugh, "I think that we need a way to take him down without the speedforce. A plan, as odd as it sounds, that _doesn't_ involve running fast to fix all of our problems."

"Well," Ronnie says slowly and thoughtfully. Leaning steadily into Mick's side, by this time of the night, "that shouldn't be _too_ hard. I mean, Stein and I have combined fire powers. Mick has his heat gun, Snart has his cold gun..."

"And us ordinary mortals also have guns," Joe reminds the room, like a true cop, "any of us could potentially take Zoom out, in ways that he simply isn't expecting."

"An interesting choice of words," Snart purrs, looking around the room with a speculative eye. It could be considered as sinister, in most situations. He, after all that he's been through, simply considers it interesting, "by take him out do we simply mean ending his reign of terror, or do we mean...?"

"We're not killing him," Barry snaps, surprisingly quickly considering his general level of niceness, "I know it's tempting, I _know_ we've all thought about it at least once, but we're not."

"Barry," Joe starts slowly, looking slightly uncomfortable with the force of the denial, "if this is because he looks like Eddie..."

"It's not," Barry denies. Hesitates for a second, as if thinking that through, and then shakes his head in one firm movement, "not really, at any rate. He may look like Eddie, but I know very well that he's not Eddie just like Eobard is not Wells. No, I don't want to avoid killing him because of that. I want to avoid killing him because we're good people, and that's not what we _do_."

"Barry..." He starts, wanting to voice the opinion that neither he or the Rogues are particularly good people who take pains to avoid murder. But then Barry turns to him, slow and steady, and the words halt in his mouth. Reminding him, in sudden detail, that perhaps he's a better man than he ever thought he was, "fine, we avoid killing him unless there's literally no way to. But what do we do with him instead? We can't let him run free, or imprison him satisfactorily. He's always going to be a threat, always waiting in the background to ruin our lives all over again. As long as he has his speed-"

"He's a risk," Caitlin is the one to finish this time. Finally striding out of the medical centre. Looking tired and a little red eyed, but smiling in a way that can only mean triumph, "but, thankfully for all of us, I _may_ have just found a way around that."


	18. Chapter 18

"Are we ready for this?" Iris asks, a concerned expression in her eyes as she crosses her arms, "I mean, I know we're all highly competent, but... This is it. This is the day we face Zoom."

The three of them, Iris and Barry and him in the middle, are standing a little apart from where the others are hurrying around. Stress is high in the room, but it seems particularly high in their little corner. Iris' face is pinched, her eyes are faintly mournful. Barry is obviously nervous, hopping from foot to foot and barely stopping himself from blurring away. And as for him... Well, completely stressed out is probably too kind a term for it.

"The big one," he elaborates on Iris' point, to distract himself from the writhing anxiety in his stomach, "the final push, the last battle. The day where we either court glory, or fail utterly and completely... Is it ever truly possible to be ready for such a day?"

"Probably not," Barry says, staring at him with concerned fondness. His hand snakes out, sneaks into his again in a way that feels so absolutely _right_ that it's hard to breathe around it, "but I think we're as close as we're ever going to be. We've got a plan, we've got the Rogues, we've got each other... We have a chance."

"A chance," Iris sighs, and continues looking pinched. He can entirely understand. If he was in her exact position, he'd be feeling a little pinched too, "I just wish that we had more than a _chance_ of taking down Ed- _Zoom_ for good."

Barry glances at him, he glances back at Barry. They silently stare at each other as Iris glances away at the nearest wall.

"...Uh," Barry starts, at the end of their silent deliberation, "Iris-"

"No worries, you two, it was just an idle musing. I know that nothing in this life can be that certain," Iris holds up her hands, gives them both a glance that is trying to be amused but that remains so very sad around the edges, "I'm a reporter, we kinda build our life around uncertainty."

"Apparently reporters build their lives around many things," he says wryly, just to get the briefly honest quirk of a smirk from her, "but that wasn't what we were worried about, Ms West, what we were worried about _was_ -"

"I know," she interrupts him, before he can even think of a way to carefully finish, and glances between them both. A small smile upon her lips, that endless echoing sorrow in her eyes undercutting the whole effect, "and, honestly, no worries there either. I know who Zoom is, I _know_ what he's done. It's just... Hard, to know that a doppelganger of the person you loved is out there. If anybody can understand that, it should be you two."

A long pause. Barry glances at him again, a heart-stopping storm of emotion in his eyes. He glances back, probably looking much the same way.

"...Anyway, I should get going. So I'm in place for when he arrives," Iris clears her throat, summons another terribly insincere smile and steps away from her place at his side, "good luck to both of you. If _either_ of you die I swear that I will learn necromancy just so I can bring you back and kill you again."

Barry snorts a little, he summons his own entirely insincere smile. Iris nods at both of them, and then strides away with her head held high and her eyes still sad.

"...I wish I could do more," Barry bursts out, the moment that she's out of earshot. His eyes are wide, his expression so concerned in her wake that he falls in love all over again at the sight of it, "I mean, we _do_ both know what it's like. And what it's like is _awful_." 

"I know, especially when it has far less chance of a happy ending than our own tale," he sighs, and turns all the way to Barry - reaches out to take both of his boy's hands in his own, still slightly marvelling over the fact that he can _do_ such a thing now, "but Iris is strong, quite possibly stronger than either of us. She won't have a fun time of it. But, in the end, she'll be absolutely fine."

"I hope so," Barry mumbles, still staring after his sister. And then shakes his head, glances at him with a concerned look lingering in his eyes, "I hope all of us are, in the end."

"We will be," he reassures, knowing exactly what his boy is getting at. He isn't so sure of that himself, but he can pretend to be so for the moment. He can be strong, fearless, as certain as the rising sun. He can be anything at all, as long as his Barry wishes it, "try not to worry. I'm hardly going to leave you now, not just after I've found you again."

"You better not," Barry whispers, and meets his eyes. Leans forward to press their foreheads together, a touch of intimacy that thrills him more than he ever thought it would, "I... Don't think that I could stand to lose you again. Stand to lose you at all, really."

"Barry..." He starts softly, and finds that he can't think of any sufficient words to come after it. Settles for a smirk instead, and a level of wryness far more fond than it used to be, "even if you do, Iris will apparently be bringing me back for the sole purpose of punching me extremely hard in the face. So, really, the risk of that is _minimal_."

Barry laughs, huskily, and shakes his head at the foolishness. But when he kisses him, fast and hot, it's hard enough to say everything that needs to be said.

 

\--

 

"You're sure this is going to work?"

" _Jay_ ," he turns his head just a little, fixes the man with as scathing a look as he can manage. They're standing on top of Star Labs, in clear and tempting view. The wind whistles around them, and his heart pounds in his chest in a way that can be described as uncomfortable at best, "this is hardly the time to start drowning in doubt."

"I know, but-" Jay sighs, edges a little closer to him. There's a small frown on his lips, it goes well with the ridiculous hat upon his head, "this could be dangerous, Eobard. Actively, horribly dangerous."

"So is life," he snaps, shakes his head as he pulls his cowl up over it. Best to be professional, if he's risking his life in a manner so heroic that he's pretty sure he would've broken out in hives over it just a few years back, "we're born, and immediately a thousand things are trying to kill us. And a thousand quickly grows to a million, and then a billion. We can't lie down in the face of those odds, we have to _fight_ them."

Jay stares at him for a second. Lip bitten, eyes so concerned that he feels a brief surge of pity for the man.

"...It's going to work," _pity_. God, he doesn't know what this universe has done to him. He's gone from an utter bastard, to a person almost fit to exist within polite society, "try not to worry, Jay. It _has_ to-"

A flash of blue between them, a thrum of angry menace that has by now become a calling card.

A _boring_ calling card. He surges past the usual fear to roll his eyes, turns with Jay to confront the fearsome nightmare. Zoom himself, standing across the rooftop and staring at them angrily. He seems to have healed from the last time, seems to be a little steadier on his feet. His mask is firmly in place, not a single crack showing, " _you_."

"Are you talking to me, or my good friend Jay Garrick?" He calls out, even starts to arch an incredibly wry eyebrow before he realizes that it's kinda hidden by the lines of the suit, "you really have to learn to be more specific, _Eddie_. I thought the Thawne line tended to encourage less pathetic vagueness, and more cool certainty in the manner of actually competent people."

"I told you," Zoom angrily sparks blue lightning, takes a step forward that would be more threatening if it wasn't done in the manner of a toddler having a tantrum, "my _name_ is not _Eddie_."

"Then what is it?" Jay calls out surprisingly, bravely squaring his shoulders as he looks Zoom right in the face, "Cecily? Jimbob the third?"

"My _name_ is Malcolm Thawne," Zoom spits, as he gives a slightly incredulous glance across. Reminds himself not to allow Jay to speak to anybody, for the rest of their lives, "my _title_ is Zoom. And you better learn both of them, because I'm going to tear all the universes down and make a monument to myself with the ashes."

"A monument made out of ashes? Constructed in this climate?" He comments, allowing an amused smirk to curve his lips, "my, I also thought that the great Thawne family would put a little more emphasis on _architecture_ in their education."

"And also," Jay says quickly, as Zoom's teeth obviously grind together, "you're not going to do anything of the sort, because we're going to _stop_ you."

"Stop me?" Zoom snarls. Still glancing angrily in his direction. And, to his faint amusement, _only_ his direction, "don't be idiots. I've almost killed all of you several times over, I've come within reach of my goals more times than I can count. I'm faster than you, I'm stronger than you, I'm _better_ than you. How on earth do you think that you're ever going to accomplish that?"

"Because we've got the power of friendship on our side," he tosses out glibly, just to make Zoom blink. Immediately turns on his heel, and _jumps_ off the building as fast as he can, "and, you know, also basic intelligence. Catch us if you can!"

 

\--

 

It takes Zoom roughly two minutes to catch up to them, but that's long enough for their purposes. They turn into the planned alleyway just as Zoom makes a swipe for his legs, grind to a halt and send Zoom shooting unexpectedly over their heads and rolling roughly to the ground. 

A long moment, as they catch his breath and he glances down at the splattered blood across his thigh. And then Zoom stumbles roughly to his feet, glares at them both with confusion in his eyes, "what-?"

"You could've avoided this, son," Jay says levelly, ignoring his dubious look in favour of moving into a ready crouch, "if you'd just laid aside your bitterness, and actually _tried_ , none of this would've happened. You could've made something of yourself, beyond what you are now."

"A conqueror, ready to destroy you all?" Zoom asks, and rises to his full height. A dark shadow, a sparking flash of lightning aiming only to destroy, "I am a Thawne, and Thawnes can never be anything more than they are."

"If that's true," Jay asks, slow and steady and keeping his eyes fixed as surely as the north star, "then how do you explain Eobard?"

HYe starts a little, in surprise. And Zoom stiffens, darts suddenly forward with rage sparking off him so clearly like it's a presence in the air... And slams into the ground again. As ice suddenly appears at his feet, trips him out of his superspeed with a sureness that would almost be hilarious if it wasn't for every other part of the situation.

Zoom lands face down. Flinches into the ground for a second, then angrily tries to push himself up with an expression to suggest that more people have been added to his kill list. He staggers, and his fingers scratch angrily into the ground, and he sways upright-

Before he can get all the way, Barry darts into view. Punches Zoom so hard in the kidneys, with such impressively precise force, that the man stumbles sideways again. Crashes into the nearest wall, hard enough to leave a dent and the slow scrape of red blood as he slides down it with an incredulous expression and a low screech of rage.

Another moment of rage, slightly longer than before. Then Zoom twitches his way up the wall, and clumsily lunges again - slower this time, as if finally starting to feel the pain of everything they've inflicted upon him. He seems to hesitate for a long second, a moment of thought agonizing to those possessing superspeed, and then sets his sights on Barry. Who is watching him, waiting for him, bracing for him with narrow eyes-

But Zoom never gets there. Just as his fingers are within breathing distance of Barry's neck fire slams into his side and sends him sprawling again. He remains on the ground for a second, stunned by the heat of it, and then slowly tries to push himself to his feet. Only to be hit by another burst of flame from the other side, another hotly violent thing. Firestorm and Mick Rory working together, ripping Zoom's defences apart with an accuracy that seems just a breath away from perfection.

Perfection, as Zoom writhes on the floor.

Perfection, as Zoom tremblingly pushes himself up with one clearly charred arm.

Perfection...

A pity. That, in all his lifetime, perfection has never really lasted for long.

He underestimates Zoom's healing speed, takes an incautious step closer. And is surprised when a formerly charred hand quickly shoots out, wraps around his ankle. He stares for a curiously slow motion second, hears Barry yelling in the background, and then feels a sharp _snap_ and finds himself flying through the air. He crashes into the wall just above Zoom's dent, leaves his own trail of blood as he slides down. He doesn't feel badly injured, but there's a ringing in his ears that just _can't_ be good.

The world remains hazy, confusingly slow. He pushes himself up onto one elbow as Jay lets out a slowed down noise of concern, and watches - terror high in his throat - as Zoom grabs him and shakes him like a ragdoll. The movement lasts until Jay goes limp, _hopefully_ stunned, and then Zoom tosses him away like a particularly cruel cat done playing with his food. Jay rolls several times when he hits the ground, remains still afterwards. He hasn't felt this powerless for months. Not since the last time somebody he loved was hurt by Zoom, not since-

_Barry_.

Barry glances at Jay, sprawled out on the floor, and then to him. Terror is high in his eyes, quickly followed by the kind of frothing rage that is all too familiar to him. His eyes slowly fix upon Zoom. And before he can find the energy to shout, find the energy to even reach _out_ , his boy starts forward with eyes blazing and fists ready-

And Zoom, fully healed with a speed that is _terrifying_ at best, grabs him easily. Lifts his boy by the throat, and stares at him with cruel indifference. Barry chokes, kicks out but gets only air. Barry's eyes start to bulge, but his fingers claw only into tough leather. Barry starts to choke, helplessly to death, but- _but_ -

He can't do anything, yet again. He can only desperately try to push himself up further. Watch, helplessly, as Zoom glances at him and Zoom tilts his head and Zoom starts to chuckle with cold amusement-

And as Zoom jerks, drops Barry before he can break his neck and stumbles back. A bullet through his spine, blood splattering his suit so copiously that it can be seen even against the black, his eyes wide as if he never expected to be stopped in such a way.

 

\--

 

Zoom staggers down to his knees, looking somewhat stunned at being harmed in such an ordinary way. He presses a slow hand to his back, tilts his head when it comes away covered in blood and immediately tries to get back to his feet. A staggering show of strength, the man obviously straining to heal himself fully with the aid of the Speedforce.

Unfortunately, for him, he doesn't quite get that far.

He gets onto one foot, obviously wincing with the pain of the disabling shot, and immediately Lisa pops out from the nearest alleyway with fury in her eyes. She pushes past Barry, still staggered back with ever so wide eyes, and immediately fires her gold gun right at Zoom's core. With a precision that would be terrifying, if it wasn't so deeply satisfying on _so_ many levels.

Zoom, still dealing with the bullet in his spine, doesn't quite have the speed to dodge. He jerks abortively sideways, but the gold still catches him all down his left side and he goes down with a yelp. The shot wouldn't quite be a killing shot, even if he was fully human and not a hellbeast come from an alternate dimension, but it definitely hurts him. The yelp turns to a muffled whine of pain as he lands on his side. He claws at the ground for a second, and then shakily pushes himself up on one elbow with a look of fury clear in his eyes.

Lisa only smirks, smug.

And _Caitlin_ comes quickly from behind. Jogs from her preplanned position, with an anxious glance at him sprawled against the wall and Jay still prone on the floor, and immediately draws out what he hopes is the very sharpest syringe she possesses, doesn't hesitate for a moment before ripping back Zoom's mask from behind and plunging it into the side of his neck.

A moment, as Zoom's pretty face crinkles in angry confusion. And then his expression clears, and he lets out a _screech_ of disbelieving pain as the serum takes effect. The opposite of the one he gave to Jay, all those weeks ago. The kind of thing calculated not to increase speed, but to rob it completely so Zoom - terrifyingly murderous Zoom who has tried to take so much from all of them - becomes human. Weak. Everything he deserves, after his reign of terror is done.

There's a long silence, echoing in the profundity of it, as Zoom slumps to the floor with one hand clutching his neck. His eyes track from Caitlin swaying on her feet to Lisa watching Zoom - _Malcolm_ \- with a cold glint in her eyes to Iris hanging half off one of the nearest buildings with a gun dangling from her hand. And then, slowly as his concussion starts to clear, inevitably his eyes track to Barry - slowly straightening, staring straight at him with an intensity that warms his heart.

Their eyes meet, for a long moment where the rest of the universe just fades away, and then track over to Jay's body on the ground together. He doesn't need to look at Barry, to know what he's thinking. It seems a cheat - to technically win, to come this far and _still_ lose something so important at the very end...

And then, slowly enough that he half thinks it just a trick of the eye, Jay twitches. Scrapes his fingers against the floor, lets out a low and pained groan... And everything becomes right with the world again.

 

\--

 

He doesn't even think about it for a moment before he's up on his feet, stumbling over to where Jay sprawls across the ground in an instant. It's less graceful than he'd like, the world seems somewhat foggy around him and his feet keep wanting to trip over themselves, but he gets there with a minimum amount of disaster. Collapses into a heap, right besides his best friend.

...His best friend.

God, he can mock himself later. When the world has become a lot clearer around him, and he isn't still riding high on taking down the worst nightmare he's ever had, "Jay?"

"Mmmph?" The Jay pile asks, groggily, and then slowly pushes itself up. Plants two shaking arms on the concrete floor of the alleyway, better to look at the world around him with great and passionate confusion, "wha- what happened? Did something happen?"

"You got choked out, and then thrown with great force by a murderous psychopath," Caitlin provides, hurries from where she was triumphantly standing over the huddled Zoom and right over to Jay's prone side, "I'm not even sure how many injuries you must have at the moment, probably far more than entirely recommended. How do you feel?"

"I feel-" Jay heaves for a moment, they both jerk back. Another moment, and then the man gives an apologetic wave and collapses against his side "...Not like I'm at my best. Did I help?"

"Yes, you getting attacked and horribly, horribly injured helped us a hell of a lot," Lisa purrs, poking Zoom with a toe. And, when he fails to do more than give a pained hiss, holsters her gun - kneels down next to him with a faintly sinister smile, "you inspired us all to _not_ do that."

"Lisa!" Iris yells from the rooftop, still hanging half off in a way that can be described as highly precarious at best, "don't be terrible. He did a lot more than that!"

"He helped to attack Zoom," Barry agrees, strolling to his side with a stern glance at Lisa. One that, as expected, is completely ignored with a great level of glee, "he helped to distract Zoom, he helped to weaken Zoom... He helped us all to _win_ , against Zoom."

They all stare at each other for a long few seconds, openly stunned. The silence of their puzzlement only broken by Zoom's increasingly more pitiful hisses.

"We won?" Jay asks huskily, still leaning against him as Joan comes shooting around the corner at top speed.

"We won," Caitlin repeats, slightly and softly numb as Firestorm lands at the end of the alleyway. Is immediately greeted by Rory, appearing out of nowhere with a beaming grin upon his face.

"...We _won_!" Barry yelps, grabbing his arm with such joy that he can't help but be carried away by it. And everything is bright, and everything is good, and everything is _joyous_ with Barry's warmth at his side and seemingly the entire universe exploding into celebration around him.

He feels _happy_.

And for perhaps the first time in his life, staring at Barry Allen's smile with Zoom neutralized on the floor behind them, he doesn't think that that's ever going to end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...Aaaaaand that's a wrap! 
> 
> I started writing this crazy thing back in February, and it ballooned from a short drabble into this goddamned monster quicker than I ever could've expected. Thank you so much to all of you for reading it, and thank you so much for your lovely comments! This is the longest fic that I've ever written, and you guys kept me encouraged along the way more than I can possibly say. 
> 
> There should be an epilogue up at some point over the next few weeks, so watch out for that soon. I cannot believe that I've written almost 80000 words of this thing, but now it's time to bring it to a close. It's been a real pleasure to work on this thing, and I hope some of you stick around to read my other fic in the future.
> 
> ...Though I can't promise it'll get this long ever again. ;)


	19. Epilogue

“So,” he comments casually, the one leaning in the doorway this time, “you’re dressed up nice.” 

It’s a week later, a week since they stole Zoom’s speed and locked him up tight. Everybody has largely returned to everyday life, the majority of the Rogues quickly dissipating before the risk of imprisonment became immediate and the Star Labs team quickly snapping back to their crime solving best. It’d be odd, not to mention faintly unwelcoming, to a former outsider such as him... 

But Barry still goes to sleep at his side every single night. So, he supposes he can take the change.

“You actually noticed,” Iris laughs, and pushes one last hairclip into her hair before standing up from the table, “and to think, I used to actually believe that speedsters had no awareness of the world around them. I’m going out tonight.”

“For any particular reason?” He asks, letting the mild jibe slide past for now. It has its roots in truth, none of the speedsters he’s met can exactly be accused of being the most insightful of people, “or just to let off some steam, after the rather dramatic events of the past few months?”

“Not that it’s any of your business,” Iris answers, but accompanies it with a wink to show that she’s not too offended. He’s glad. The best stage of friendship is when you can insult each other without blinking, and still be close at the end of it, “but Lisa invited me out, after the end of it, and recommended that I try to drag Caitlin along too. So, sort of both. It’ll be good to get to know Lisa better, and it’ll also be good to destress with a good spot of dancing.”

“Hm,” he says speculatively, summons his most mischievous smirk, “yes, _dancing_.”

“Shut up!” Iris immediately gets his drift, laughs at him as she strides to the door and gently shoves him aside, “I’m a grown woman, I can be inappropriate with whomever I like.”

“Indeed you can, in whatever combinations you wish,” he hesitates for only a second. And then sighs, reaches out to gently grab her arm and halt her. Under all the joking, he does care about Iris. Under all the spikiness, maybe he has become something close to a good person after all, “I just hope that you’re alright, Iris, after... Everything.”

The details go unsaid. The terror of Zoom, the pain of Zoom looking just like her dead fiancé, the pressure of Zoom being locked up tight just across town. Iris hesitates for a second, quietly. And then, to his pride, glances up at him – offers a brave smile, a declaration of her refusal to be knocked down no matter what, “I’m not really, not _yet_ , but I’m getting there. And no amount of pain is going to stop me from living my life as I see fit.”

It’s good enough, beyond good enough, for him. He releases his light grip on her arm with a smile, gestures her onwards in as gentlemanly a manner as he can manage.

“Thank you,” Iris purrs, almost regal in her determination, and sweeps past him like a queen, “wish me luck!”

“All the luck in the world,” he smiles, and watches her go with a fond warmth in his chest.

 

\--

 

"Now, are we _sure_ that we have everything?"

"Given the fact that I know both of you made lists as long as my arm," he interrupts wryly, leaning against the wall and watching as Jay and Joan prepare to leave through the portal, "I'm pretty sure that the chances of that are _zero_."

"You never know," Joan retorts, turning to give him a stern stare that would be truly intimidating if it wasn't over the subject of luggage, "it's been a stressful few months. What if Jay misplaced something? What if I accidentally had something fall out of the bottom of my bag? What if we simultaneously forgot a vital detail at once? It could happen..."

"It definitely could," Jay backs her up automatically. But then glances over to him, makes a reluctant face that is yet again _hilarious_ , "but... Well, I suppose I do know what Eobard means."

" _Jay_ ," Joan scolds. And then sighs a little, shakes her head. When she turns back to him, there's a small smile on her lips that speaks of slightly less hilarious forgiveness, "but, fine, you do both have a point. I suppose we can always pop back for whatever we've left, if anything has gone wrong."

"It is entirely possible," he informs them both. And can't quite help a smile of his own, as he steps forward to finally say goodbye to them properly, "and plan to, I assume?"

"Most definitely," Joan huffs, as her husband nods firmly at her side, "I'm already missing Iris' party tonight, if you think I'm missing any other such things due to the simple fact of being in another universe then you'd be extremely mistaken."

"Besides," Jay agrees with her, staring at him with such earnest eyes that even now - after so much reluctant character development - he's not quite sure how to deal with them, "you are my best friend, after all. You think I'd just abandon you here without a single attempt to keep in touch?"

"It's hardly abandonment," he retorts playfully, and decides that the best way to deal is to forge forwards no matter what the odds. He steps forwards, as Jay continues to smile at him, actually takes that final step and wraps the man firmly in his arms, "but, I have to admit, I am grateful to hear that. The world would seem rather dark, without my favourite mocking boy."

When he draws back, Jay's eyes are slightly and suspiciously damp. He offers a small smile, and reaches out to clap his shoulder in the most amusingly manly way possible, "take care of yourself. Alright, Eobard?"

"Don't worry, Jay," he smiles in return, and blinks away his own sting as Joan fondly shakes her head over them, "I fully intend to."

 

\--

 

“Do you think I’ll look better in the red shirt, or the black one?”

“It hardly _matters_ , does it? Dear Mr Rory will doubtlessly think your muscles outstanding in both. And it’s hardly like we ever remain clothed for long, when it comes to him...”

“That last piece of information was one that I did not need to know,” he chirps brightly, bouncing around the corner and into the room at the perfect moment. He could’ve eavesdropped for hours more, of course, but that would’ve neither been particularly nice nor netted the reaction of Ronnie spinning around and Stein going bright red, “and, personally, I’d go for the red shirt. It fits the more firey aspects of your personality.”

“That...” Ronnie coughs for a moment, glances briefly over at the still scarlet Stein, “might be something to consider.”

“Nonsense. I am sure that Mr Rory, being a man of surprising depth, appreciates us for many things beyond our fire-related abilities,” Stein, even if still resembling a thousand red things, sniffs. Then makes the mistake of glancing at Ronnie, and allows his huffiness to fade into something far more fond, “just as I appreciate you for far more reasons than our ability to bond.”

“The both of you are so sweet. It sickens me to my very core,” he deadpans, watches with no small level of fondness as Ronnie and Stein stare at each other like there’s nothing else relevant in the universe, “I assume things are going well, then? Between both you and Rory and you yourselves?”

“Better than well,” Ronnie informs him, and smirks as Stein’s nose wrinkles up at such wording, “largely due to you, actually. If you hadn’t pointed out the potential between us we would’ve never thought about it seriously. And if you hadn’t introduced us to Mick, Mr Rory as Stein insists on calling him, we would’ve never actually acted. You helped us, more than we can say.”

“Glad to do some good,” he murmurs, more touched than he ever thought he would be at the thought of a kinky threesome involving fire powers, “no matter how small it may be.”

“Doctor Thawne,” Stein starts insistently, turning to him with authoritative finger already pointed. But though his face may be stern, his eyes are so warm that it’s like he’s on fire even now, “you have done far more good than a _little_ , my dear boy.”

 

\--

 

"I need your reassurance that he can't get out."

"For the fifth time, Snart," Joe says through gritted teeth, glaring at the man in question as he strolls casually into the room, "the cells at Iron Heights are secure. Cisco has even tricked them out with his whole science thing! You have absolutely nothing to worry about."

"Hm," Snart muses. And glances beyond Joe to where Cisco is standing, looking faintly and hilariously horrified at the defence, "'tricked out', you say?"

"This is about the imprisonment of Zoom, I'm guessing?" He asks cheerfully, and pushes away from the doorframe as everybody nods. Strides into the middle of the room, making sure that his very smuggest smile is firmly in place, "there really is no need to worry, Snart. What Joe so imaginatively said is correct - Iron Heights is newly secure, and Zoom is in a special cell that it'd be hard for even a metahuman to get out of."

"Which he no longer is," Cisco takes the opportunity to offer, if still looking a little lingeringly horrified, "thanks to Caitlin, who is... Currently not here to back me up."

"She's going out dancing with my sister, so expect a bill for property damage in the next day or so," Snart purrs, and switches his attention to him - thoughtful, oddly respectful in a way that he was not expecting but will most definitely take, "that is a little more reassuring, I will admit. But it still doesn't entirely assuage my worries. Zoom is dangerous, there has to be almost no chance of him getting out."

"There isn't," he provides surely. Perhaps driven by hope, perhaps driven by the certainty of his desire to walk over hot coals before letting Zoom have a single moment of freedom in the rest of his life, "not if he's lost his metahuman abilities."

"You say that," Snart purrs, pointing a very sharp finger in his direction, "but I'm not a meta, and neither are Hartley or Axel. We managed to get out without powers, who's to say that Zoom can't do the same?"

"You had meta help, though," Cisco provides, with a small glance at him almost as if checking for permission, "and if there's anything the past few days have proved, Zoom ain't getting that any time soon."

"And you weren't watched. The entirety of your plan to get out depended upon it, in fact," he takes over, still amused. But determined underneath, the kind of hotly burning thing that can drive on to madness or glory, "Zoom will be, by multiple people, for the rest of his life."

Snart stares at him for a long few seconds. Thoughtful, speculative in a way that glimpses right down to his core."

Luckily, his core is a far less terrifying place than it used to be, "trust me, Snart, I want him to get out even less than you do. As long as there's a breath in my body, there's no chance of anything from that quarter."

"Well," Snart starts slowly, still thoughtfully. And then gives a wry smirk, seems to relax a little as he stands up straight and immediately starts heading for the door, "we'll just have to make sure that the breath remains in your body, then. A fine trick, worthy of my level of cunning. I'll be off now, before I simply _have_ to start applauding it."

"We're just going to let him-?" Joe snaps, a touch angrily, and then sighs when he politely glances over. Holsters his gun again, and rolls his eyes, "right, the deal you made. How could I forget."

"Maybe you're just not that smart," Snart says cheerfully, seemingly just for the purpose of getting Joe's teeth to grind together, and turns at the door. He looks Star Labs over one last time, with almost forensic eyes, and then offers an actual smile - nods at them all in farewell, "this may sound insincere from a guy like me, but try to take care of yourselves. You're the best heroes a guy like me could ask for, and I'd hate to have to find new ones."

"Uh," Cisco offers, as Joe's teeth grinding becomes gratingly audible, "thank you?"

"And Eobard," Snart continues, glancing only at him. Smirk upon his lips, that odd respect still in his eyes like an admission of friendship that neither of them are quite the type to pursue, "if you ever want a threesome..."

"I know just who to call," he laughs, watches fondly as Joe splutters and Cisco shifts uncomfortably and Snart disappears from view.

 

\--

 

“You took your time,” Barry smiles at him. Standing in their spot, right in front of the city. His hair is haloed against the light of it, his hands are tucked into his pockets and his eyes are soft. He’s pretty sure that it’s the most beautiful sight that he’s ever seen.

“A lot of people wanted to talk to me. Because apparently, to my shock, I’m a popular man in this universe,” he offers softly, with a smile, and crosses the roof in a few long strides. Reaches out, and gently tugs Barry’s hands from his pockets so he can take them in his own, “your sister, Jay and Joan, Ronnie and Stein... Even Leonard Snart, before he took off for parts far more frosty.”

“I hope you got through to him,” Barry nods, and squeezes – the pressure light, but enough to get his heart beating that foolish bit faster, “he could be a good man, these past few days have proved that. If he just-“

“Wanted to? Or tried?” He asks, with a wryly arched eyebrow. Watches as Barry gives a self-depreciating laugh, and another little nod, “we shall see. For now, he simply offered a threesome and took his leave.”

“A-?” Barry turns bright scarlet for a moment, splutters another laugh. Adorable, on every level. He wants to spend the rest of his life drawing those kinds of reactions, making his boy happy in every way possible, “that’s... Certainly flattering. But I don’t think I feel like sharing you, not for a good long while.”

“Barry...” He starts slowly, wonderingly. Just has to smile hopelessly as Barry tilts his head at him, eyes wide and soft and slightly mischievous in a way that it’s not possible to avoid loving completely, “I don’t feel like sharing you either to tell the truth. I would, in fact, feel entirely comfortable tying you to my bed and keeping you there eternally. But-“

“But?” Barry interrupts him, keeps tilting his head with eyes so very wide and so very enchanting.

“...Maybe it would be best, if we had an intermediary,” he gulps, against the rising panic in his stomach at those words. Leans forwards, to press his forehead to Barry’s in a motion more designed to soothe himself than anything else, “I mean, I love you, but you have to admit that this is hardly a conventional relationship. I’m a bastard at best, you’re still in mourning, we’re both kind of a mess. We could probably use somebody more sensible, something-“

“ _What_?” Barry stares at him for a second, eyes narrow. And then, to his surprise, allows his expression to clear – stares at him calmly, fondly with his heart right in his expression, “oh, of course. Zoom took me before I could finish talking to you about this the last time.”

He stares for a second. Wide eyed, helpless with hope present enough in his throat to almost choke him “...Did he?”

“We’re both messed up,” Barry whispers, and presses their foreheads closer together. Firm and loving, determined and calm, so sure against him that the hope grows hotter by the very second, “and this relationship is messed up, and this universe is messed up, and _everything_ is messed up. But you know what? That’s alright. That’s more than alright, that’s _good_. Because the universe isn’t great because it’s flawless, it’s great because it’s a chaotic mess. And there’s nobody in it, nobody in all of them, that I’d rather have than you.”

The breath catches in his lungs hard enough to become a glorious hurt, the wind rustles through their hair like a soft encouragement, the sun slowly starts to set over this wonderful world as Barry slowly smiles and closes his eyes before him...

And he kisses Barry Allen there on their rooftop. Imperfect and flawed and all kinds of messy, but perfect because of every one of those things and more.


End file.
